


Of Dirt and Stone

by Follower_Of_Mania



Series: Warrior of the Grey [2]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, F/F, Grounder Clarke Griffin, Grounder Culture, Multi, Mythology References
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-19
Updated: 2017-12-27
Packaged: 2018-09-25 15:44:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 22,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9827105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Follower_Of_Mania/pseuds/Follower_Of_Mania
Summary: On the Ark you do not die. You float.All Arkers float. They float through life, through emotions, through struggle.On the Ark, there is no dirt.I am a warrior trained in the dirt, built of stone and clay. I am a Grounder.





	1. Flames on the Horizon

Nothing could have prepared Lexa for the events of the last year. The Northern Clans had completely cut themselves off from the outside world. Their borders were lined with thousands of hostile guards and all forms of trade had stopped. Hali no longer sent out their ships, the Maunkru no longer sent out their caravans and the Azgeda had abandoned all their outposts. Lexa hadn't thought this an issue until news of Polis reached her. The capital had been destroyed by the Mountain Men. For four months she’d searched for a replacement command centre before eventually deciding to take over TonDC until a better option presented itself. That was when realization hit. Without trade from the North, especially the Maunkru, the Trikru could not acquire the stone necessary to build solid housing and a sturdy base of operations. Thus the rebuilding was sidelined as the search restarted in earnest. If they could not completely rebuild Polis on top of Ton DC, then they would find another leftover of the last world. 

 

Lexa decided to remain in TonDC with the rest of her army as they prepared an assault on the Mountain Men. It was time for revenge. She’d sent two more messengers to the North to see if she could rally their troops, she received no response. 

 

Lexa feared that there was a civil war occurring within the North. Clarke had vanished in the Northern Islands and left Luna without support from the Warriors of Black. Without her support the Mother’s claim to the throne of Hali was weakened and other Warriors of White could attempt to overthrow her. Whispers from her spies said that the Ice Queen was dead and burned thus removing the one clear threat to Luna. If the Ice Queen was dead though then the clear suspect in her murder would be Luna and thus hostilities would rise between the Azgeda and Floudonkru.

 

However, for the Maunkru to be drawn into the conflict with no clear goal was troublesome. Usually the three Northern clans could be counted on to act in unison due to their unofficial alliance. Together their total forces numbered over 100,000 easily overshadowing the 30,000 warriors of the Southern clans. Their shared religion and philosophy had bound the clans of Ice, Boat and Mountain together against the constant threat of Ragnarök. Never mind that the Maunkru had invaded Hali twenty years ago and killed the White Woman, or that the Floudonkru considered themselves the ultimate enemy of the Azkru and were constantly involved in a small war with their neighbour. To the South, the North appeared undivided. 

 

If the three giants of the North were crippling each other, then the South would suffer the consequences. It was for this reason that Lexa decided to keep sending messengers to the North. She sent bombardments of lettres to Luna and the new king of the Azgeda. None of her messages ever received replies. 

 

The towns within Lexa’s domain still needed her guidance and thus she dedicated the task of contacting the North to Indra. The warrior was happy to be of service to her commander. 

 

It was at the end of the year, eleven months since the supposed death of the Ice Queen that the sky lit up with fire. A streak of flame shot across the night sky and fell to earth. Lexa was not surprised. Clarke had told her this day would come, the Northerners swore by it. This was the beginning of the last twilight, the final Ragnarök that would decide the new world order. The flame giants had arrived to signal the attack and Lexa would not be caught off guard. She had the crash site surrounded by guards and positioned herself in the trees opposite the door, her last act before leaving TonDC was to send a desperate letter to Luna, a call for her to send the Bloody Smile to aid the South. 

 

The warriors of the Trikru waited with baited breath for the hulk of scalded metal to make the first move. It resembled some artifacts from the lost world but was such a foreign shape that it was best to wait to discern it’s nature before reacting. The raven carrying her letter to the North flew overhead before with a hiss a hatch opened in the side of the metal object. A silence descended upon the clearing as the warriors ceased all movements and the nearby creatures fled after making their own observations. The door slid open, the smooth movement seeming harsh to the raw nature of the Trikru. 

 

Lexa held her breath, watching as the hatch hit the ground and the flame giants swarmed out of their ship. A cry of “We’re back bitches!” left one of them. A brown haired female dressed in odd clothing the likes Lexa had only seen on Mountain Men. They spoke english which was damning enough on it’s own but coupled with their strange garbs it was enough to send a shiver down Lexa’s spine. The flame giants were allied with the Maunon. Lexa signalled a retreat, this was a foe too great to fight unprepared. The swarm of flame giants would be allowed to live until they could be properly disposed of. 

 

As Lexa turned to retreat with the rest of her troops bar the surveillance team she’d be leaving behind, she noticed a peculiar child. Smaller than the rest with skin noticeably darker than the majority of his kin, the flame giant had a familiar face. Perhaps she’d met one of his Maunon relatives, Lexa didn’t know. She told Anya to keep a close eye on the small giant. 

* * *

Octavia had a grin on her face the likes of which she’d never felt before. It nearly hurt as it stretched her skin. The ground! They’d reached the ground! The green of the plants and the trees was an assault on her eyes and the blue of the sky was a colour unexplainable by words or pictures, the kind of blue you had to see to know. For a brief moment she wondered if you could float up into all that blue. Then she remembered that just like the Ark, the ground had gravity too. She looked around at all the green and jumped to feel the cushion of the dirt beneath her feet. Around her, her fellow delinquents roamed free as they too look in their new surroundings and released long contained squeals of joy. 

 

Bellamy pulled her out of her reverie, he swooped her up in a hug. Octavia protested this overt show of affection but he just chuckled and pat her on the head. She objected to that too but he ignored her in favour of the drama unfolding next to them. 

 

Wells had been looking over some maps while the others celebrated. Apparently Jasper had done something to set him off as the chancellor’s son was gripping him by the arm and shoving him back. Murphy approached then with his already formed gang behind him, “Hey, Hey, Hey. Hands off him! He’s with us."

 

Wells raised his hands in surrender, “I’m just trying to figure out where we are."

 

Bellamy interrupted them then as he approaches the conflict, “We’re on the ground, that not good enough for you?"

 

“We need to find Mount Weather. You heard my father’s message. Food and water need to be our priority.” 

 

Octavia was no longer inclined to listen to his frantic grabs for power, “Screw your Father. What’s he ever done for us? Do you think because your dad is the dictator up there you can be in charge down here? You and your brother,” She gestured to the tiny boy hiding in the door of the drop ship. Jake Jaha wilted under her glare and retreated back into the ship. 

 

Wells watched the kid’s retreated before snarling at Octavia, “He’s not my brother."

 

Murphy chose that moment to strike, “Sure seems like he is to me. Isn’t that why he’s in here? Because after the Griffin incident your dad couldn’t keep it in his pants."

 

Wells roared and raised his fists to go at Murphy. Bellamy was there in an instant restraining him from doing something he didn’t want to, “Maybe you should be the one to go to Mount Weather. Let the privileged do the hard work for once.” 

 

A resounding cheer came from the gathering crowd at that. Most of the delinquents on the drop ship came from lower class families. To them the Jaha’s were tyrants, executioners and to watch them do the work was a thrill Octavia could understand. Still, watching Jake as he peeked his head out again she could feel a little bit of sympathy for him. She was a second child as well. The fact that his parents didn’t die for birthing him was the main reason she’d never dream of approaching him. The child was sheltered, a four year old with no contact with anyone except his parents. 

 

Wells protested his nomination for the task, “You’re not listening! We all need to go-“ 

 

Murphy had apparently grown tired of listening to him talk as he shoved Wells over, “Look at this everybody- Chancellor of Earth!"

 

Wells drew himself back together before glaring down at the shorter delinquent, “You think that’s funny?” Just like that Murphy pounced on him. They rolled on the floor exchanging blows as the crowd around them cheered them on. On Murphy’s third consecutive punch to Wells’ face he’d apparently had enough as he stood up and gave him some space. 

 

Wells struggled to his feet and tried to limp after Murphy, he’d hurt his ankle in the fall. Murphy egged him on, waiting for the perfect time to strike again. Octavia cheered, this was a spectacle unlike anything she’d seen before. Sure there had been fights in the prison block but she was never there to see them. Always hearing about them the next day from a friend or the guards whispering. 

 

Finn chose that moment to interrupt. He leapt down from the side of the drop ship and landed between them, “Now’s not the time for fighting. The guy’s already got a bad leg, wait till this is a fair fight,” Octavia watched him stare down Murphy. 

 

“Hey, Spacewalker! Rescue me next!” Finn turned to smile at her and Octavia smiled back. Just like that Murphy and his posse turned and left and Wells went to go sit down by his map. Octavia admired Finn as he walked away before Bellamy jerked her out of her reverie, “What? he’s cute."

 

“He’s a criminal."

 

“We’re all criminals."

 

Bellamy dragged her away by her hand, “Look, O, I came down here to protect you.” 

 

Octavia shoved his grip off, “I don’t need protecting! I’ve been locked up one way or another all my life and now it’s my turn to make my own choices! I’m done following orders. I’m done following your orders,” She watched the hurt look in his eyes and backtracked, “I just, I need to do something crazy just because I can. No one, including you, is going to stop me."

 

Bellamy’s gaze drifted to their surroundings and she knew he was going to change the topic, “I can’t stay here, O.” 

 

“What do you mean?"

 

“I did something,” he started to walk off, to leave her behind again, “To get on the drop ship. Something they will kill me for. I can’t say what it was but just trust me. You do still trust me, don’t you?"

 

Octavia nodded reluctantly. He was still her brother despite past mistakes. Just then she caught sight of Finn and Wells talking. The Space Walker wore a frown like a pimple. Octavia detached herself from her brother to go eavesdrop.

 

“You need to talk to him Wells,” Finn said. 

 

“I won’t. He’s not my brother or my responsibility. They tried to replace my best friend Finn! Tried to erase Clarke from everything as if she was never here in the first place.” 

 

“It’s not the kid’s fault. He’s struggling same as you.” 

 

Wells looked displeased at this, “We’re not the same,” he slowly started to stand and limp back into the drop ship. 

 

Finn made him pause for a few seconds, “Don’t tell me that you don’t look into his eyes and see your own. He’s scared. Imagine getting sent down here into this green after spending your whole life in one room.” 

 

Octavia decided to lend her expert opinion, “The kid just wants to be loved. If you don’t want him I’ll take him.”

 

Bellamy laid waste to that plan, “I won’t have you interacting with them, O. They killed Mom.” 

 

Octavia shoved off the hand he’d placed on her shoulder, “I killed Mom. They were just following the laws Mom ignored.” 

 

Finn said, “We need to leave for Mount Weather.” 

 

“You alone can’t carry enough food for all these people!” Wells protested. 

 

Finn turned to Jasper and Monty, two delinquents in for stealing and illegal possession, “Now we have 3."

 

“I’m coming too!” Octavia was ready for adventure. 

 

“No you’re not!” 

 

“Bells, it’ll be fine. I need to explore right now.” 

 

Bellamy sighed, “Just take a knife or two with you.” 

 

Just then a little voice spoke up from behind them, “Food?” 

 

It was Jake, his eyes wandering over to the map clenched in Finn’s hand. Octavia stepped towards him but Bellamy’s arm barred her way. In the end it was Finn who reached him first and hoisted the little boy into the air under his arms, “You hungry?” 

 

The boy smiled and nodded, his long black hair swaying in the wind. 

 

“Guess we’d better hurry then.” With that the expedition left the drop ship. 

* * *

From where Anya was perched above the camp the scene below seemed ridiculous. To shame a child for birth instead of merit was ludicrous. The only thing close was… mutation. The child was rancid then. Why had they left it alive? Why did the Commander want to her to watch him? Anya had never felt such doubt in the Commander’s orders before but something about the fire raining from the sky had shaken her. It went against everything her parents, friends and mentors had told her. The North always lied. Their tales of Ragnarök were nothing but a crutch to support their flagging economy. 

 

Anya should’ve reconsidered the truth of Ragnarök when she learned that the North was occupied by two of the richest known clans. The Maunkru and Floudonkru had always controlled the majority of trade within the clans, it never occurred to Anya that the traders she was meeting barred the signature tattoos of boat or mountain. Even the facial tattoos that some of the Floudonkru merchant families claimed as heritage had invoked no reaction from the young warrior. It was greeting the Commander upon her return from Hali that revealed the wealth of the North. She wore armor finer than anything Anya had seen before and Indra carried a sword sharper than a hawk’s talon. 

 

Anya turned to the warrior crouched next to her. “Follow them,” she pointed out the group leaving the camp, “Don’t let them near TonDC.”

 

The warrior nodded and shot off after the group taking two other warriors with him. Anya drifted off to thought as she observed the panic that greeted hungry bellies. The fools had no idea how to feed themselves or how to properly establish a camp. They milled about in horror and many scurried off in pairs to mate. A sure sign of an establishing society. They wished to procreate immediately and viciously so that a large pool of children was available for when disease and war hit. A wise strategic move, had they already built  defenses. 

 

Anya chuckled at the foolishness of the fire giants. Lexa had overestimated them again. They were surely the same as the Maunon with their fragile skin. One cut and they died a painful death. Death by a thousand cuts was not nearly as worthwhile with a victim who died after the first one. 

 

Anya refocused as the leader approached the small giant. The man, Salami she’d overheard one of the giants say, struck the small giant across the face. He took the pain well. A repressed flinch that Anya had seen many a time gave away his charade and Anya watched as the child cowered before Salami. Momentarily Anya wished for Salami to end this small giant. To purge the stain on the bloodline and cleanse his people, to humanize them. 

 

That was when Salami turned from the small giant and Anya decided his nature. A monster, pure and simple. One had to be to doom one’s people to disease and pain. To leave a child in mutated agony and doom a civilization was the first true act of evil she’d seen the idiotic flame giants commit. For a people so maleficent to the North they were pathetic. 

 

No defenses to speak of, no clear leader, no advanced knowledge and only rudimentary weapons did not create an intimidating enemy. Add their similarity to the Maunon and they might be something but already the giants were distancing themselves. They had yet to notice Anya’s obvious hiding spot. A hiding spot the Maunon would have spotted in seconds. 

 

Anya settled down against her tree to watch the flame giants scurry as Salami tried to force them into line. Quickly he found a group of men to follow him. Their builds indicating at a background in violence. The warriors followed the pompous leader as he paraded them about and shouted orders ate the other wandering giants. 

 

They listened to him, surprisingly and soon the giants set about carving tools and gathering the trees that’d fallen from the strike of their metal monster. Anya quickly sent a messenger to Lexa, this was news she’d need to hear. 

 

In her focus on Salami’s amassed warriors Anya forgot to watch the small giant as he wandered away from the camp. 

 

* * *

 

Four days after Lexa’s message had been received in Hali, Clarke stepped off her small ship. It was the same one she’d journeyed in with the wolf queen, the same one she’d used to flee from the Azgeda. She pat the hull of the ship before setting off down the coast into the forest. She had a date with the Commander, it wouldn’t do to let her down. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go! This is part 2 of the Warriors of Grey so if you haven't read part 1 yet, A Riffle and the Sea, you might want to do that. I really enjoyed writing the first part, bumpy as the ride was, and I look forward to writing the events after the 100 reach the ground. 
> 
> I am currently also working on completely reediting the first part so updates will probably be a bit sparse at first. 
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	2. Playing with Fire

The child stalked through the bushes, each step sending the weeds crackling every which way. His prey wandered ahead of him, bright blue wings steadily keeping the butterfly afloat. He crept closer and suddenly cupped his hands over the butterfly, catching it against the log it had come to rest on. 

  
The wings of the butterfly gently tickled the boy's hand and by accident, he panicked. His hand fell down. 

  
The boy gasped as he lifted his hand to see the crushed butterfly on display there. 

  
“No…” his eyes started to well and his face slowly turned red as he sniffled. He stared at his hands in horror. How could something so beautiful be killed so quickly?   
In the trees up above a grounder watched impassively. 

* * *

  
  
Wells sat on the top floor of the drop ship. He’d torn apart several seats to fashion himself a small corner, hidden from view. A photo was in his hands, himself and a young, blond girl. Tears lined his eyes, “Clarke, I’m on Earth. I made it.” his hands shook slightly as his voice broke. 

  
He sniffled and leaned his head back against the hull behind him. The cold metal was a familiar comfort, a constant presence. The photo crinkled in his hands, the edges well worn and wrinkled. He’d stolen it from Clarke’s room on the Ark about three weeks after her Father’s floating. He knew Abby had seen him take it. She didn’t stop him. The photo had been in his chest pocket ever since, a comforting presence over his heart. 

  
He hadn’t made many friends since Clarke left. Probably wasn’t the best decision with his current situation but he was loyal to a fault. If he couldn’t have his best friend maybe he didn’t deserve friends at all. That, of course, implying that any other kids would tolerate him, Clarke had understood what having parents on the council meant. There were no other kids on the Ark who could. 

  
Wells ran his hands over the photo once more. Clarke could never be replaced. Even if she never got a funeral, and her meager possessions were distributed to those who needed them on the Ark. She’d been his best friend. His only friend.

  
“Who is she?” Wells looked up. There stood Bellamy Blake peering down at him over the seat cushions he’d thought would shield him from view. Bellamy looked concerned with furrowed brows and a condescending smile on his face. The boy probably thought… Wells honestly didn’t know what Bellamy could possibly be thinking. 

  
“None of your business,” Wells glared up at the boy. He stood, placing himself on equal ground with the guard trainee. This despite him being an inch shorter than the older boy. His eyes were still rimmed red but his sniffles and tears had stopped.

   
Bellamy held his hands up, “Just curious oh chancellor of Earth,” Wells thought he’d rolled his eyes but he couldn’t be sure. Many years of social isolation had meant poor results for his ability to understand and read others. 

  
What would Clarke do? Wells looked him over distrustfully but sighed, the path to peace was diplomacy after all. Or at least that’s what Clarke would probably say.  “Her name was Clarke,” Bellamy still looked confused so Wells expanded, “Clarke Griffin.” 

  
“Oh… her,” Bellamy frowned at him, “Shame what happened."

Immediately after the incident, the entire Ark had been filled with rumours about a dropship. But the truth, that Clarke had been murdered by her Father, put an end to all the rumors. Few on the Ark mess around with the murders of children. Every dead kid was another waste of space, children were only considered valuable to those close to them. Others saw the value of kids only for their future potential. A dead kid was wasted potential. A waste of time, of space. Knowing that about Clarke had been worse than losing her in the first place. 

Wells growled, “Fucking shame.” He laughed lightly, “Yeah, murder’s always a fucking shame.” 

Bellamy stepped back. He had dug himself deeper into this conversation than he wanted to be. Bellamy was used to clean hatred. Hate the Chancellor. Hate the council. Hate the elites. Hate the people who made his sister’s existence illegal and hate those who imprisoned her. This, seeing his enemy weak in front of him, was a new situation. One he wasn’t certain how to deal with. He decided to approach this peacefully,  “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you two were… close.” A solid apology. 

  
“She was my best friend, Blake. My best friend and now what? I just accept that her Father sent her out of that airlock? That her mother hopped on the next available body? That I… lost her.” He paused, “That my Father replaced me with that kid just as easily as Abby replaced Clarke,” That was the truth of why he hated Jake Jaha. The kid had Wells’ hair and nose but Clarke’s eyes. Nevermind that he shared a name with Clarke’s murderer. They’d blamed the kid on a randomly selected man from farm station. Had him floated and claimed rape. Can’t punish a woman for being raped and having a kid can you? Wells sighed. He suddenly felt like the metal monitor around his wrist was going to cut off all circulation. He tugged at it uselessly. Clarke wouldn’t consider killing all the people on the Ark just for revenge. Clarke would be better than this. His shoulders hunched. 

  
Bellamy regarded him. The kid looked heartbroken. Bellamy decided to pat him on the back, “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”   
“Thanks,” Wells said the word so lightly it didn’t seem to leave his mouth. 

  
“Now get your act together Jaha. Can’t let anyone know you’re a pansy, they’ll tear you apart,” Bellamy pat Wells on the back again. Tears had always made the eldest Blake uncomfortable. He examined Wells again before nodding. He’d done all he could. He made a swift exit to go yell at some of the others.   
Wells looked at the old photograph in his hands, “Can’t let anyone know I’m a pansy, Clarke. That my best friend…” Wells frowned. He wiped away his tears one last time. He folded the photo up once more and tucked it away. He wiped his hands off on his pants and made his way down out of the dropship. He stopped at the exit and looked up at the blue sky above him. Not a cloud in the sky, a perfect day. Clarke would’ve loved to paint this sky. The green leaves, the grass, she’d love it all. She wouldn’t sulk inside like he had. She’d be out here leading. 

  
Wells resolved to do that for her.

Two of the others were working to fit pieces of a wall together, Wells walked over and asked, “How can I help?” 

  
“By floating yourself.” The two guys kept working. One was holding a sheet of metal from the dropship in place while the other hammered it into a plank they’d driven into the ground. 

  
“My ankle’s not very good but I’ve got good…” Wells realized that the two delinquents weren’t listening to him. He frowned and looked for anyone else to help. The camp was empty with everyone off together in the woods or sleeping to avoid the midday sun and the bugs it brought with it. Wells swatted at the flies circling his neck. He did one last look around the camp before spotting it. There was a lone shovel leaning up against the dropship. Still more holes had to be dug to build the supports for the wall. Wells rolled up his sleeves, it was time to get to work. 

 

* * *

  
Clarke could see the boundary marking on the tree up ahead. She was entering the territory of TonDC. Indra’s home if she was not mistaken. TonDC was a bad place for the boat clan. Three dozen warriors were killed the last time a member of the boat clan was here. Clarke would not see the trend continued. She had not brought a guard, they would have slowed the journey. Luna had assigned two ships from her own fleet to follow Clarke on her journey but they would not arrive for a week more. The larger ships used formally for war were much slower than the quick vessel favoured by the elite warriors of Black and White. As the only warrior of the Black still living, Clarke had the distinguished honour of using the boats of her order whenever she so wished. 

  
Clarke’s bone-mask was splattered the the blood of the reaper who’d dared to cross her path on her trek to the village. The mask was fashioned from the shattered skull of the first warrior she'd executed. Her armor was pitch black with numerous pouches to store the concoctions she’d devised with the Boat Clan’s primary healer, the Wolf, Lupe. It lacked the normal embellishments of one of Luna’s captains, but the mask Clarke wore told others who she was more clearly than any patch could. The sole non-black part of her armor were her gauntlets. One was made of more black metal with sharpened fingers in claws and sharp ridges running along the surface to her elbow. The other gauntlet was flat, made of brighter but still dull fragments that covered each of her fingers. The purpose of the sharpened gauntlet on her left hand was to punch and attack those she couldn’t reach with the sword. 

  
Two daggers hung at her waist. One the knife she’d used to kill the man whose skull she wore as a mask and the other a replaceable simple steel blade. Clarke carried two swords. One of them a short sword, lightly curved that was tied across her back. It was her fifth version of the blade, the others not surviving combat for long. The second was a larger, hefty blade. It was crafted by the Blue Cliff Clan from a darker metal. It had been Luna’s gift upon her joining the warriors of the Black.   
Immediately upon stepping within the boundary of TonDC, she could tell there were arrows trained on her. They knew who she was. 

  
“Who are you?"

Or maybe they did not. 

The scout had approached her from the entrance to the village up ahead. He was younger than her, probably a second sent by his elders to make a fool of himself.   
Clarke just stared at him and continued her determined walk towards the village. Let them fire the first arrow and live with the consequences. 

One arrow whizzed past her, a near miss. 

“Stop!” The scout raised his hands at her. She did not. 

Another arrow, another near miss. 

The third arrow she dodged, cleanly stepping back for it to impale the ground in front of her. She stopped then and stared at the scout in front of her. The boy was frail with narrow shoulders. He lacked the strong back needed to be a good warrior for his clan. Probably why they propped him at the entrance to sacrifice to her. 

She stared at him, lips curling gently into a smile. The kid told her to stay and ran back inside. The arrows remained steady in her position. Two archers positioned in the trees. Behind her now, one roughly two meters away and the other a measly five. Before she could plot their deaths, a familiar face emerged from the entrance that the boy had disappeared into. 

Indra smiled at her. Clarke returned it honestly. 

“Never thought I’d see your ugly face again,” Indra chuckled. The scout stood behind her, confused and slightly distressed. 

"I can say the same. I’m surprised they haven’t replaced you yet. Aren’t you getting a bit old?” The scout looked a bit more distressed now, a sheen of sweat across his forehead. 

“Still young enough to beat you,” Indra huffed playfully. The two warriors walked closer together and hugged. Indra pulled away slightly and pat her on the back, “It’s good to see you, Clarke. At least the blood on your face is red this time.” 

Clarke laughed, “It’s good to see you too, Indra. Is she here?” 

They dropped the hug completely and Indra straightened, “She’s here.” 

Indra led Clarke into the camp past the scout. The kid had realized who she was by now judging by his pale complexion. And the angry warrior smiling at her from behind him. The warriors at the gate saluted her. Good to know that the experienced ones still remembered her. A young girl dropped the pile of cloth she was carrying at the sight of her and ran back inside her house. Or maybe the boy was just an exception. 

The Commander’s tent was just as grandiose as she remembered it. It took up the entire clearing in the centre of the village. The entire Trikru army seemed to be camped out behind it in the field around TonDC. 

Indra did not lead her into the tent like Clarke expected. Instead, she was led into an old world building, a large grey thing wrapped in the colours of the Trikru, not the coalition like the Commander’s tent was. 

Indra led her up the steps into the building, it was cool inside. A nice contrast to the buggy humidity outside. The room was dimly lit by candles but none the less the Commander stood out. She’d moved her wooden throne inside. Clarke thought the thing looked rather uncomfortable but then Luna’s throne back in Hali was twice as uncomfortable as this one looked. Thoughts of her time in the Ice Nation attempted to attack her grip on the present but she fought them off. A time for such dark thoughts would come later, now she had to smile for her friend. 

“Commander.” Clarke greeted the woman in front of her. Lexa dismissed her guards from the room. This was a conversation between friends, not leaders. The leading could wait an hour. 

Lexa stood and walked towards her, “Clarke.” The two hugged. Truthfully Clarke only did this much hugging with the Mother. It was an oddity to have two warriors from a rival clan hug her within the span of a short walk. Truly one for the records. 

Clarke undid the buckle on the back of her skull mask. The bone pieces clinked together as she hooked it on her belt. 

“It’s been a while,” Clarke said. 

“Where have you been?” Lexa was straight to business. 

“Around,” Clarke smiled at her. 

“Don’t avoid the question.” 

Clarke sighed and wavered back a few steps. She took a deep breath and prepared herself, “It’s been a long year. You may want to sit down."  
Lexa gestured to two chairs off to the side of the room. The old friends sat down together. Lexa leant forwards slightly and asked for Clarke to begin her tale. 

Clarke did, she started with fighting the massive wolf north of where north ends. How the White Woman found her and led her to the Ice Nation. How the White Woman was actually Nia. She’d inducted Nia into the Order of the Black before she killed her. And then she took the throne. 

“So it was you?” Lexa questioned.

“You heard? Yes. I did not last long on that throne. I can’t stand sitting, waiting for my enemies to stab me. I’d rather track them down first."

Clarke continued her tale with the assassination attempts while she was on the throne. She left the throne to Roan and had returned home to Hali, the capital of the Boat Clan. From there, she’d had a realization. 

“I killed the heir. I just…” Clarke paused and recentered herself, “I learned a lot about myself. Sitting there in Hali unable to do anything after so long of never-ending action. I’m the heir now. The Mother’s daughter in living and class if not blood."

Lexa smiled at her. She reached out, planting a warm hand on Clarke’s knee, “I remember something you told me after Costia. The dead are gone and the living are hungry.” 

Clarke breathed and rebuilt herself. Her mask slowly reformed and she leant back into her chair, the hardwood a soft comfort. 

“Luna only told me to get here as fast as I could. What is the situation?” Clarke’s face was blank but with a small smile. 

“The sky has rained fire, Clarke.” 

“What?” Clarke’s blank facade momentarily shattered again. 

“Like you said it would. Fire rained from the sky and now sky people wander my woods. I have Anya containing them but it is only a matter of time before more of them come."

Clarke stood so quickly her chair tilted over behind her. “I’d like to see them. To see if this really is what we think.” 

“Of course. I will be unable to accompany you but Indra will lead you."

Clarke left for the door. Before she left she turned to look at the Commander. The Trikru warrior had returned to her throne and now looked at her with a genuine smile beneath all of the war paint. Clarke nodded to her before she left, “Nice to see you again, Heda.” 

Without another word Clarke left. As the door closed behind her Lexa whispered, “Nice to see you too, Bloody Smile."

* * *

  
Anya watched from the trees above the flame giant’s camp as the three foragers returned. The fourth was gagged and unconscious back at her mobile camp. He would make nice bait for tomorrow’s hunt. Lincoln was treating his wounds. The man was too kind at heart for his job but his limited healing skills came in handy to stop the bleeding long enough for the traps to be set. 

  
The three returning giants set a panic to their camp. Salami, their leader, was running too and fro screaming as he normally did. Wells, the brother of the rancid one, was busy building their flimsy walls. Now that they had secured their future population with their mating the giants were settling in. Potentially she had underestimated. However, she knew for a fact that they had no healers and their one tracker was the long-haired boy. One of her scouts had already set a trail at the river for them to find tomorrow. It would lead to the trap, a warning for anyone who did not die or aid in luring in their prey. 

  
She hadn’t seen the little giant since that morning. Perhaps one of the giants had come to their senses and purged it.

   
Anya watched as a small group of the flame giant’s warriors set out to find their missing friend. She happily noted they were walking straight in the direction of her trap. 


	3. Drowning Under

The hunting party charged through the woods after Finn. The tracker was leading them back the way they’d originally came towards the river where they’d last seen Jasper. Fourteen of the 100 ran after him, laden with their crafted weapons. Suddenly, a horn sounded in front of them. Finn stopped. The rest slowed down to a halt behind him. 

 

Bellamy walked up beside him, “What is it? It sounds like they’re just ahead of us!” 

 

Murphy, one of the boys Bellamy had dragged along, was also outraged, “Let’s get them!” 

 

“Listen,” Finn gestured to the forest around them. It had gone eerily silent. Suddenly, a pale green fog started to expand across the ground towards them. 

 

“What is that!?” Said Monroe, one of the 100 they’d recruited to go after Jasper. 

 

“RUN!”

 

They ran. 

 

* * *

Bellamy had separated to run away from the fog on his own and he slid into a small cave, pulling a log down in front of the entrance as he slid in. 

 

“Ow!” Came a cry from a short ways away. Bellamy had managed a sliding kick on Charlotte, the second youngest of the 100. Theft was her crime. One she seemed to have repeated judging by the assorted goods scattered around her hiding place. Food stolen from the drop ship. A sword stolen from one of the camp’s guards. 

 

“Charlotte?” Bellamy asked. He was wiping dust from his eyes and the cave was dark enough that he couldn’t quite make out her face. 

 

The young girl sniffled and wiped her runny nose. She hiccuped slightly, a sign of the tears she was holding in. “Go away.” 

 

Bellamy shifted forward in the small space and tried to pull her into a hug like he would Octavia after she’d spent all day under the floor. Charlotte pushed him away. “Charlotte, what’s wrong?” Bellamy asked. He shifted to be as close to her as he could, he stopped moving any time she jumped. 

 

“The demons. They’re here too,” Charlotte whispered between a few more of her sniffles. 

 

“Oh,” the wind howled outside of their cave, “I have to stay here for a while Charlotte and then you should come back to camp with me.”

 

Charlotte didn’t respond. Bellamy lay there for a while, wondering what to do with the child beside him. The girl was obviously troubled but all of the delinquents were. But to be 12 years old and trapped in the sky box… that was more trouble than any four other delinquents combined. Made one think about the trouble Jake must be in. The kid had spent his entire life inside of the Ark’s prison. 

 

Briefly Bellamy spared a thought for Jasper. Hopefully the grounders, or whoever had speared him, would be keeping him safe from that fog. Hopefully the others had managed to run away safely. Hopefully they managed to survive. 

 

Bellamy drifted off to sleep with thoughts of survival on his brain. 

 

When he awoke it was to something attacking his face. He reacted and contained the threat by grabbing the offending fist and pinning it against the wall. Charlotte screamed as she awoke to Bellamy man handling her. 

 

“Stop! Stop! I thought you were one of them!” She said, beginning to cry again. The girl was truly reliant on her tears. Bellamy released her and the girl gently rubbed her raw wrist. 

 

“Who did you think I was?” Bellamy asked. He returned to his former position. 

 

“One of the demons.” 

 

Bellamy knelt in front of her and refused to move when she tried to push him away. He smiled at her and offered her his hand, “Do you know what you do with demons, Charlotte?” 

 

“Run away?” 

 

Bellamy laughed, “No. You kill them. Come on, we can go kill them together back at camp. There’s no need to hide away like this.” 

 

“You promise? You’ll help me?” 

 

“I promise."

 

Charlotte grabbed his hand. 

 

* * *

 

Wells emerged from the bunker he’d sheltered in with Finn. It was amazing what the spacewalker could find when he wandered off. They could hear gasping nearby. Wells looked to Finn who had exited before him but the other boy wasn’t looking at him. Finn was looking at the groaning man on the ground in front of them. It was Atom, he’d been caught up in the fog before he reached the bunker with the other two. 

 

The poor boy was covered in burns and open wounds of some sort. He was bleeding freely and yellow pus poured from him. Wells gasped. He pulled Finn over next to the guy. Wells knelt down and stared. Even if he was medically trained, even if he was like Clarke, there was nothing for him to do. He could not save Atom. This was the end of his journey. 

 

“Knife,” said Wells. Finn did not respond. The boy seemed frozen. “Finn give me your knife.” 

 

Stiffly, Finn unhooked the knife from his belt and let it fall. Wells picked it up off the forest floor. 

 

“May we meet again,” Wells leaned over Atom and took a deep breath. He could smell the iron of his blood, the bitter chemicals of the fog that had seeped into his skin. Wells stabbed the knife into Atom’s neck. It was a messy kill and Atom briefly choked on the blood pouring out of the cut. 

 

“May we meet again,” said Finn from his position a meter away from the scene in front of him. 

 

* * *

 

“Your fight is over,” whispered Indra from where she knelt in the trees high above, “They are different from the mountain men. Weaker. Dumber too. They did not know about the fog.” 

 

“It is because they are not mountain men. They are from the sky.” Clarke responded. She was uncomfortable being up in the trees but approached it like climbing the mast of her ship. The branches were much thinner than her mast and lacked the grooves that had been specifically made for easy transit. Indra, by contrast, was far more comfortable with branches beneath her than she seemed to be on solid ground. 

 

“Sky people,” Indra scoffed and shook her head. 

 

Clarke chuckled softly, “You need some surprises to keep you on your toes.” 

 

The two grounders laughed together softly and watched the two sky people react to their friend’s death. Soon they could hear the cries of another sky person further away. It was Salami, the leader Anya had informed them of. Indra and Clarke followed the sky people as they regrouped and continued on their way towards Anya’s trap. Clarke had looked over the wounded sky boy’s wounds when she arrived at the scout camp and he had been well looked after. Now all that remained was for the sky people not to mess up his continued care. 

 

Such was a distant dream. 

 

Clarke knew these people. Not their faces nor their names for she’d long crossed them from her memory. But their kind, their language was as familiar to her as home, for once it was hers as well. So, the Ark still lived. Sometimes she would stop and watch the haunting structure float across the sky but she’d had no way to know if her Father’s murderers still lived up there or if their own ignorance had already killed them. Abby was up there, surely. Clarke would get the joy of killing her herself if she ever arrived on the ground. She wondered about Wells. He’d been her best friend once. Had he survived to adulthood? Was he an engineer like he’d always wanted? Did he become a doctor in her honour? What had become of her best friend? 

 

Was he a traitor like all the rest? 

 

Clarke had changed a lot since her time on the ground. First as Luna’s daughter and then as a warrior of the Black. She’d become queen of the ice nation and abdicated her throne. She’d killed far more people than she’d ever saved. Than she ever could save. What would Abby and Wells think of her now? Would the Chancellor try to float her?

 

Probably. Her crimes now were a lot worse than petty theft and he’d floated people for that. Floating was an interesting concept. Clarke had always categorized it as being different from death. On Earth, you die. On the Ark, you float. Floating sounds peaceful, inconsequential. 

 

Death is the end. Clarke’s Father hadn’t “floated” he’d died. Jake Griffin had been murdered. Not “floated”. If these kids were like the rest of their kind, Clarke had no mercy for them. 

 

If these kids were anything like Abby Griffin then they would meet their end on her sword.

 

The sky children had regrouped, the 13 of them that were left plus a young child led by Salami. The girl looked the same age Clarke was when she was sent down here. They continued their journey and as the two grounders followed them high above in the trees. It was good that the sky children were slow runners for Clarke lagged behind Indra in their treetop voyage. Clarke made a note to ask the chieftain to reteach her this skill. She obviously had not learned it well enough when Indra had first taught it to her. 

 

Clarke wanted full value for the armor she’d traded to get the training. 

 

The sky children were almost at the tree they’d tied their friend to. A large panther had been seen prowling the area and it’d be nice to see their response. Consider it a test, a way to prove that these warriors were no where near as dangerous as the mountain men. 

 

Suddenly, Clarke heard something that gave her pause. 

 

“Oh just Wells Jaha walking around like the chancellor of Earth!” The guard with the greasy long hair yelled. 

 

Clarke choked lightly. Wells still lived. Wells was here, on Earth. Wells was here. She felt anger then, that this boy got to grow up with his parents still alive. With his Father still alive. He never had to see the things she’d seen. Do the things she’d done. Clarke knew from the smile Abby Griffin had had when she’d watched the chancellor send her Father out into space that Abby was responsible. Abby had lost a lot of the love she’d once held for Clarke’s Father as his madness took hold. Clarke had heard the fights after she’d been sent to bed. She knew what Abby had done. But Wells had been the only one she’d told about her Father’s crafting. Wells had been the only one she’d told about the giant ship her Father was building. Blame for this fell just as much on Wells as it did anyone else on the Ark. Old best friend or not. 

 

But he was alive. Wells was alive. 

 

Clarke snapped out of it. She’d hesitated and started to fall even further behind Indra and the slow sky children. She would deal with this development later. Wells wouldn’t recognize her. 

 

Finally, they reached the edge of the clearing where the trap was set up. Pits filled with spears were scattered around the clearing carefully covered by grass and loose camouflage. Anya’s scouts had prepared well for this. The pits could catch either the sky people wandering towards their injured friend or the panther they knew was already prowling close to the clearing. Indra and Clarke’s arrival completed the circle of grounders waiting to watch the show. Clarke was the only non-tree clan grounder present and all the rest were comfortably sprawled across the tree tops. 

 

Clarke heard the first gasp from Salami, the leader. They’d spotted the hanging body of their wounded friend. It was time for the show. 

 

Clarke landed beside Indra on a thick branch with a good view of the clearing. Indra nudged her over when Clarke landed too close and soon the two grounders were well positioned for the show. 

 

One of the sky people nearly fell into one of the pits but Salami saved them. The leader was a quick thinker. Suddenly Clarke nearly gasped at the shining black object Salami pulled from seemingly nowhere. It was a gun. It’d been over 6 years since Clarke had last seen one. 

 

“Is that?” Indra asked her. 

 

“It is. Just like the mountain men,” Clarke’s gaze hardened. Guns were a weapon she’d forgotten to account for in her assessment of the sky people, “They’re more dangerous than we’d thought.” 

 

Bellamy fired a shot into the sky and Indra next to her recoiled. The sound grated on the ears, a monstrosity in the natural world the grounders lived in. Only the mountain men carried guns. For a sky person to have one solidified the similarities between the two groups. 

 

“Same language, same weapon,” Indra responded. She drew her bow and notched an arrow. If these people proved too dangerous this could be their chance to take them out. 

 

Clarke readied her sword. She was uncertain about the drop from the tree branch to the floor but it would do to be cautious none the less. 

 

The sky people had finally made it to the center of the clearing and begun cutting down their friend when the panther arrived. The great cat was stalking its prey, slinking through the high grass to get down wind and behind the sky people. Salami still had his gun out. 

 

The panther got closer and closer until finally it leapt straight at Salami. The cat landed on his front as the leader just barely managed to turn to see it. Another bang rang out. The cat went still. Salami shoved it off him and set to commanding his followers. The little girl he’d brought along went unnoticed as she watched the events. 

 

Clarke and Indra shared a look as they departed once more across the trees. They had far more to discuss with Anya now. 

 

* * *

 

Octavia was pissed. Her brother had left her behind to go on his rescue mission. She’d slept with one of the layabouts again. Probably wasn’t a decision she’d revisit any time soon. Or ever. She’d wandered out of the camp after that. Adventure was always available for those willing to look. Octavia wasn’t willing to be kept locked up any longer. She’d spent her whole life inside of 2 rooms and it was time for change. 

 

Octavia was wandering the woods alone, marveling at the fierce greens and browns of nature. Suddenly, she caught a glimpse of something blue out of the corner of her eye. It was the color of most Ark clothing. A steely, boring dark blue. Someone else was out here. 

 

“Who’s there?” Octavia called. She heard no response so she took off at a run after the flash she’d seen. She rounded the corner and there was the sniffling ball that was Jake Jaha. “Jake?"

 

Jake shook his head and huddled closer into his ball. 

 

Octavia frowned and knelt beside the boy, “You know, I’m a second child too. I’ve got an older brother too.” Octavia knew that Wells wasn’t the friendliest older sibling, but that bond would surely still exist. 

 

“Really?” Jake's question was muffled by layers of snot and fabric but the sniffling had subsided at least a little. 

 

“Really. The angry guy with the gun is my brother, Bellamy. He’s very protective of me and doesn’t approve of a lot of the things I do. We’ve got a lot in common, Jake,” Octavia pat the kid on the head again. He was a good kid. Far better than the witch who’d given birth to him. And the bastard who’d fathered him and his brother. 

 

“But he loves you. When Wells looks at me… all he sees is Clarke. All he hears when I talk is Clarke,” Jake was crying again.

 

“Then be different from Clarke. Be your own person. And if your family still doesn’t love you then you can find your own family,” Octavia gave Jake advice she’d been waiting for for most of her time under the floor. It was something she’d begun to learn only recently. Blood was good and all but family by choice could be a thousand times better. 

 

“Okay,” Jake sniffled some more, “I’m going back to camp now. I’ll be my own person!” Jake stood up, wiped away his tears and ran away from the little hollow. He left Octavia behind but she smiled as the kid ran away. That was her good deed for the day. 

 

Octavia stood up from her crouch. She groaned, her leg muscles were stiff after holding her in one position for too long. She took off in the same direction she’d left camp from. The beauty of nature was overwhelming her. However, there was something wrong. She could feel it, the hairs on the back of her neck starting to rise. Something was wrong. She crouched low and tried to be as silent as she could. However, she was used to being silent on metal floors, not the soft crunch of the forest’s ground. 

 

As a result, Octavia’s quiet was actually rather loud. She continued to creep forward. 

 

Suddenly, she felt an impact behind her and then a cold blade at her throat. There was someone behind her, someone dangerous. They said something to her but she couldn’t understand. 

 

“Who are you?” Octavia asked. She refused to scream. She would get out of this by herself. She would be her own person just like she’d told Jake. She didn’t need Bellamy to save her. 

 

It was a man behind her and he took the knife off of her throat to strike her across the face. Octavia spun with the blow and got her first look at the man who’d attacked her. It was one of the grounders, covered in their black armor and face paint. He looked like a devil come straight to get her. 

 

He said something and another one dropped down beside him. These grounders lived in the trees, that’s why the 100 never saw them. They never looked up. Plus there was the camouflage that the grounders cloaked themselves in, but the trees added to that effect. 

 

“Who are you?!” Octavia asked again as she scrambled backwards. She’d seen what these guys had done to Jasper. 

 

Another grounder dropped down then. This one was bigger than the rest, he stepped forward and looked down at her. Octavia had finally grasped a branch and now she picked it up to try and swing it at him. The branch bounced off his leg and the grounder seemed not to notice it. He leaned over her and offered her a hand, “Ai laik linkon kom trikru. Chon yu bilaik?” 

 

Octavia did not understand. She got a name from that but… she tried again to see if they spoke her language, “English? Please?” 

 

“Ai laik linkon kom trikru,” The grounder said again. He gestured to himself, “Ai laik linkon.” 

 

“You are Lincoln?” The man nodded. Maybe they spoke a different language and looked quite different, but these grounders were not savages. 

 

“Hello.” That was another voice. A female voice. Suddenly another grounder with bright blond hair wearing black armor and a mask made from a shattered human skull appeared in front of her. This one spoke English. Octavia tried to back up but her back was against a tree. 

 

“I am Clarke of the Bloody Smile. It is nice to meet you, Octavia of the Sky People."


	4. Into the Storm

Lexa felt trapped, caged. Ever since she’d solidified the Coalition she’d been held up on such a high pedestal she was rarely allowed time for herself. And time for herself was grouped with time for her to train. She had no more conquests to lead her people on. Now all she had to do was lead.

 

Lexa had to think that Clarke was right, all that time ago. It’d been over a year since they’d sat in a rowboat together as enemies. Since Clarke had pointed to the sky and told Lexa the stories of her people and told Lexa that she was a child. Back then, Lexa was a child. She’d barely emerged from her conclave and knew nothing of diplomacy or true combat. The downside of being a night blood was that she was never involved in skirmishes between the clans until she was Commander. Now, as Commander, she had no fighting left to do.

 

She felt angry, constantly. Every piece of her calling for conflict, for entertainment. She missed the arena back at Hali. Her one fight within the destroyed stadium had been one of the most exciting experiences of her life. She needed to spar with Clarke at least once before the warrior returned to her home. If there would be a home after this coming of Ragnarök. At first, Lexa had not believed Clarke when the warrior had told her of the most integral belief of the Northern clans.

 

She’d thought it ludicrous up until the moment when the sky started to rain fire and then people emerged from the flames.

 

Lexa steadied herself. Now was not the time for doubts or fear. Now she was readying the coalition’s army for the first time. She would see true war for the first time. It was time for the mountain men to experience the fear they’d made her people feel for generations.

 

Clarke would deal with Ragnarök, such was the never-ending purpose of her order. Lexa had a different destiny. She would bring down the mountain. The first step of this journey was in the great hall across the hallway. Lexa tightened her armour and grabbed the dark bowl of paint in front of her mirror. She painted on the signature paint of the Commander. Lexa’s issues could wait, it was time for the coalition to come first.

 

Lexa rose, cape trailing behind her. She pushed open the doors out of her bedroom and nodded to her guards. They snapped to attention at the sight of her.

 

“Is everyone inside?” She asked the guards across the hall. One of them nodded. Lexa pushed open the doors to the meeting to the scene of a disaster. The Boat Clan was supposed to be represented by an ambassador at the meeting because Clarke was away but the ambassador had passed on a rather ferocious hunt recently. The fool chosen instead was the highest ranking merchant within TonDC and the poor fool had questioned the Ice Nation’s general.

 

“Enough,” The room stilled at her words. She may not be the fearsome berserker that Clarke was, the leader that Luna was nor the cruel monster Nia had once been, but she was still the Commander. Her words demanded respect both for the spirit in the back of her neck and the coalition she had built. “I called you here to discuss fighting the mountain, not each other.”

 

The Ice Nation general let go of Clarke’s chosen representative, “Roan is most pleased that you’ve welcomed us here. He sends his condolences for having to remain at home but this coming winter looks harsher than normal.”

 

Clarke’s ambassador straightened his clothing. He was a much worse warrior than any Lexa had seen from Hali before, “Delightful as this is, I am neither a trained ambassador nor general."

 

“What are you then? Decoration?” The Ice Nation general turned to him, “I expected to meet our once-queen, not a waste of space.”

 

“Clarke is already organizing the first step of this plan. She will attend this meeting once that has been dealt with. Until a more suitable replacement arrives the decoration will do.” Lexa walked up to the edge of the war table. Maps with markers were on the table to represent the mountain’s position and the dropship. “Now, let us discuss the war.”

 

* * *

 

Octavia stared at the shoulder of the horse she’d been thrown over. Lincoln, the first grounder to speak to her, had tied up her arms behind her back and then placed her across the front of his horse. Octavia could barely breath, the last one of the 100 these grounders had taken was Jasper, and she’d yet to see him alive since.

 

Her adrenaline was pumping wildly and she was sweating profusely. Hardly the best look in front of the hunky grounder who’s horse she was on.

 

Clarke was on a horse ahead of her. If Octavia twisted her neck she could just barely see the blonde’s braid and the back of the skull mask she wore. She was far more heavily armed than her fellow grounders and she seemed to be the leader. She rode at the front. Her armour was different from the rest too, not just the skull she wore over her face but her armour was pitch black while the others had flashes of green on their clothing.

 

Not to mention the name, “Bloody Smile” didn’t scream warm and inviting no matter what language you spoke. Clarke’s horse was not significantly different from the rest but she did have significantly more bags and tarps connected to her saddle. Clarke was either riding a pack mule or she’d come from a lot further away. Octavia assumed that she was probably an expert exterminator brought around just for the 100.

 

Suddenly, Clarke’s horse pulled to a halt and it stalled everyone behind her. Clarke ordered something and Lincoln started to move behind Octavia. Octavia’s view was cut off as Lincoln tied a cloth bag over her head. As soon as the bag was secured they kept moving.

 

Now Octavia was uncomfortable and bored. It was claustrophobic inside of the rough bag but she was used to being trapped underneath the floor on the Ark, a bag was nothing. Yet having her freedom taken again was unpleasant, to say the least. The rock of the horse beneath her was slowly pulling Octavia to sleep. She drifted off.

 

* * *

 

Octavia woke up with no idea how long she’d been asleep for. She was still tied and the bag was still over her head but now Lincoln’s horse had stopped once more. Lincoln got off his horse behind her and she was lifted off the horse gently. She tried to struggle out of grasp, twisting like a fish on land but it was futile. Octavia could hear Clarke ordering more people around until another woman came and then Clarke started conversing with her in their language.

 

The grounder language sounded quite like English but was very different at the same time. Octavia decided she’d like to learn it if possible, knowing the native language was sure to be beneficial for her future her. Learning how to fight like a grounder would be even better. Anyone who could throw a spear that far across a ravine or spend every day hunting the beasts of this world for food was certainly a good warrior. How good a warrior did you need to be to lead them was the question Octavia needed to answer.

 

Octavia was carried forward by the grounder. She assumed it was Lincoln as she hadn’t heard anyone else walk over. Suddenly her fear started to mount again. The others didn’t know where she was or that she’d even left. Who knew how long Bellamy would be gone for and even then he wouldn’t be able to save her. Her brother was strong for someone from the Ark but compared to people like Lincoln he was a meat stick.

 

Octavia felt the cool air as she was carried inside somewhere and then the sound of cloth falling behind her. Octavia wished they would let her walk but with her eyes covered walking was more likely to get her hurt than anything. If her feet hit the ground then she’d start running and never return. Once inside she was gently placed on the ground. She heard Clarke and the other woman as their conversation entered the structure. They’d come in from the other side.

 

Lincoln unwound the rope that was keeping the bag on and then pulled it from her face. Octavia blinked. The tent was dark compared to the outside but Octavia finally got a good look at the woman who’d captured her. She noticed that Clarke’s mask was splattered with something. Her gut dropped as she realized the red liquid was blood. Guess the woman took being called the Bloody Smile seriously. Or the blood was the reason for the title. The woman next to her was older with brown and blond hair. She looked like the rest of the grounders with black paint on her face and similar armour. She stood a few steps back from Clarke.

 

Clarke walked forwards towards the sky girl and gestured at Lincoln. The grounder nodded at her and left the tent. Clarke and the other woman then took some time circling around Octavia inspecting her. Octavia could only catch a few words such as Heda, skai and gona from the two warriors. They were talking quickly. Both seemed rather impassive, neither giving much away by tone nor actions.

 

“Here I thought we were going to talk to each other,” Octavia commented.

 

Clarke stopped in front of her and then crouched down in front of the sky girl. She looked Octavia in the eye as she drew one of the two daggers at her waist. It was the dull one, not the elegant and longer dagger on her other hip. Clarke grabbed Octavia. Octavia tried to get away from her. This was when they were going to kill her. They’d been inspecting her before and she hadn’t passed. However, the other woman was behind Octavia and blocked her escape. Octavia’s arms were suddenly free as the other woman cut the ropes that had kept them secured behind her back. Together the two grounders held her still as Clarke ripped open her shirt sleeve and cut her on her upper arm.

 

Octavia’s blood bubbled to the surface but was soon covered as Clarke bandaged the wound. The two grounders released her and Octavia laid there watching them. Clarke held the blood covered dagger and was gesturing with it at her. The other warrior was nodding.

 

Octavia was confused.

 

Clarke wiped off her dagger and sheathed it again. The other warrior said something to her and Clarke nodded.

 

“Welcome, Octavia of the sky people, to Anya’s camp,” Clarke gestured at the other woman, “I am sorry for the blood. Anya required proof that you bleed like we do.”

 

“What?” Octavia asked.

 

“Anya's been watching you. We have some questions for you,” Clarke ignored Octavia’s question.

 

Octavia looked back and forth between the two warriors studying her, “How do you know my name?”

 

“Good ears,” said Anya. It was the first thing she’d said in English since Octavia had met her. So Clarke wasn’t an exception. The grounders just pretended not to speak English.

 

“Why did you kill Jasper?” Octavia asked next.

 

“He still lives,” Anya replied.

 

Clarke interrupted, “Now is not the time for your questions. Tell us, what do you know of the Mountain?” Anya stepped back to the door to the tent as Clarke took over the conversation.

 

“Mount Weather?” Clarke nodded, “We were supposed to head there when we landed,” At Octavia’s answer Anya drew one of her blades and started to advance. Octavia started to scramble backwards but Clarke stopped them both.

 

“The mountain has been the enemy of our people for beyond known memory. They kidnap our people and turn our warriors into monsters,” Anya glanced at Clarke at the word monster.

 

“There are people in there? Wells thought it was abandoned!” Octavia said. She’d leaned forward, eager to learn about these people.

 

“It is not,” Clarke pushed Anya back to her earlier position as she began circling again, “Anya you may leave.”

 

Anya nodded and departed the tent. Now it was just Octavia and the Bloody Smile in the tent together. Octavia smiled up at the grounder leader, “Want me all to yourself?”

 

“Where did you come from?” Clarke asked as she walked behind Octavia.

 

“The sky.”

 

“Where in the sky?” Clarke quizzed.

 

“The Ark. It’s 12 space stations… you wouldn’t know what those are.” Octavia paused, “We’re from a building in the sky. It’s sealed so nothing gets in or out.”

 

“Except you and your friends. How many of you are there?” Clarke was in front of her again and stopped to look down at her.

 

“101 on the ground. Thousands in the sky. You don’t want to mess with us,” Octavia said. She grinned up at the woman in front of her. Hopefully, these grounders would understand respect.

 

“Thousands?” Clarke hummed, “And you have guns.” She did a full circle of Octavia before speaking again, “Do you know who I am?”

 

“You told me when we met?” Octavia answered and asked at the same time. She shrugged as well, suddenly thankful for the fact that her arms were no longer tied as she was free to pursue the reaction.

 

“Hmm. So you don’t. Tell me, why do your people hate the small boy and the one you call Wells?” Clarke continued her questioning. She’d stopped circling once again, standing before Octavia. Her arms were loose at her sides, ready to react to attack yet casual enough that her readiness slipped past Octavia.

 

“I’ve answered enough of your questions!” Octavia braced her hands on the floor and tried to kick out at Clarke’s legs. The grounder jumped over the kick and stepped down on Octavia’s ankle when she tried to move it. Clarke had Octavia’s ankle at quite the uncomfortable angle, any movement would result in serious damage.

 

Octavia looked back and forth between the blank face of her captor and her pinned ankle. She had no choice it seemed.

 

“Answer the question, Octavia of the Sky people.”

 

Octavia sighed and held her hands up, a universal sign of surrender. Clarke did not let go of her ankle. “Jake is a second child.”

 

“You would ostracize a child for the actions of the parts? You would endanger the chances of your clan's future progress?” Clarke scoffed and released Octavia’s ankle. The sky person no longer truly resembled a threat to her. Plus she was now aware that there was no escape unless Clarke permitted it.

 

“You people never change. I’d thought you’d get better-“ Clarke seemed to realize that her comments had been said aloud. She turned back to look at Octavia who’d suddenly become much more interested in her captor. “What of Wells?"

 

“He’s the son of our leader, just like Jake.”

 

Clarke flinched and looked away. She seemed to take a few deep breaths and Octavia braced herself for the end of her life. Angry grounder normally entailed a dead sky person.

 

“Jake Jaha. Who is his mother?” Octavia was curious as to how Clarke knew who their leader was. Most likely she’d captured another of the 100. That or… there had been rumours in the skybox. Of a 12-year-old girl sent to the ground alone. They’d vanished as all of the older prisoners got executed and replaced with new ones until only Octavia was left. Octavia had a long memory though, she remembered the girls’ name. Clarke Griffin, daughter of Abby Jaha and Jake Griffin.

 

“Abby Jaha.”

 

Clarke growled. Octavia backed up once again to the edge of the tent. The grounder had drawn her knife and had audibly tightened her grip on the dagger. She was mumbling something under her breath, threats Octavia assumed.

 

Now it made sense why Clarke was the one to interrogate her. Of course Clarke hadn’t been murdered by her Father like the cover-up said. Clarke was a sky person.

 

Suddenly, Clarke barked out orders in their language. Movement outside of the tent alerted Octavia that they were being helpfully fulfilled by one of her warriors. After barking her orders, Clarke just stood there. Her chest was heaving with every breath. She was a barely contained inferno of fury.

 

Octavia retracted her earlier statement. Clarke had been a sky person. And now she was a leader, a commander, a general.

 

“You’re Clarke Griffin, aren’t you?” Octavia kicked the hornet's nest. She never was the best with sensitivity.

 

Clarke turned to look at her, suddenly realizing that the sky girl was still there. Her features cooled into their normal blank smile.

 

“I was, once.” Clarke seemed to realize that this girl knew too much of her story already. Octavia came to the same realization. She was not going to be saved and since she knew so much of Clarke there was no way the grounder would let her survive.

 

Octavia braced herself for the end.

 

“My people call me Clarke of the Bloody Smile now.” Clarke took a deep breath. “A gentle mind can solve all the problems in the world while an angry one can only cause them,” Clarke paused once more, "Octavia of the sky people, I would like to make you an offer.” Her grounder accent wasn’t as thick as it had been at the beginning of their conversation.

 

“Will you, Octavia of the people that locked you up and have left you for dead, join my people? Will you become a grounder as I have? Will you accept my tutelage in return for your knowledge of your old people?”

 

Octavia stared at her. This was not the direction she’d expected this conversation to go.

 

* * *

 

Drew, Digs, Monty and Murphy rushed back into camp with Finn on a stretcher between them. The hunting party had returned with Jasper two days before. Now Wells looked over the wounded boy and waited to see if the grounder’s medicine would heal him. Finn was in far worse condition, a grounder had snuck up on them while the group was searching for Octavia who’d vanished 4 days before. The grounder had managed to stab Finn before Bellamy and Dax captured him.

 

The grounder capture crew hauled the unconscious giant into camp behind them. Wells greeted the group carrying Finn as they arrived at the dropship. He stared at the dagger sticking out of the spacewalker. Nothing in his medical training had prepared him for this.

 

Wells did know one thing though, that knife had to get out of Finn or else he’d die no matter what. Jasper was stashed in the highest part of the dropship but the boy's wounds had been healing well enough that he would be able to get two guards to transport him to the bottom floor. Finn was not well enough to be carried that far.

 

They dropped Finn and Wells off on the bottom floor as Bellamy and Dax continued to drag their friend along. The grounder was slowly regaining consciousness but Bellamy hit him over the head once again. They slowly hauled him up the first flight of stairs together before repeating the process once again on the second set. Once on the third floor, they grabbed chains and chained up the grounder. The two sky boys sat together huffing and puffing as they waited for the certainly heavy grounder to awaken.

 

* * *

 

Jake had watched the return of the search party with disinterest before returning to his new hobby. He’d tried to find what it meant to be his own person but hadn’t had any clue who he was to start with. To Wells he was not-Clarke. To the other 100, he was the Chancellor’s son. To Octavia… he didn’t know who he was to Octavia. They shared a kinship certainly, both being second children from the Ark. Both shouldn't have been born. Except only one of their mothers had died for her mistakes. Only one of their Fathers had as well.

 

Jake was not oblivious to his privilege. He merely wished he could give it to someone else. His elder brother hated him, abhorred him even. He’d never be anything but a reminder of the death of Wells’ best friend. Never represent anything but sadness and doubt. 

 

He was done feeling that, the first step of his journey of becoming truly not-Clarke was realizing who not-Clarke was. He certainly wouldn’t be a healer of any sort. He knew that was why Wells had become interested in surgery all of a sudden. He couldn’t become an artist of any sort. Abby had shown him a few of Clarke’s charcoal paintings in the hope he’d be an artist too. However, there was one thing he knew Clarke would’ve hated. Fighting. The way Wells and Abby talked about Clarke made her seem a pacifist. Wells was trying to channel Clarke now in his leadership by advocating against war. 

 

This was how Jake arrived at his new hobby. None of the guards liked him enough to teach him how to fight and Octavia, the one delinquent who liked him at all, had been missing ever since their conversation. Jake had decided to become a warrior. A fierce, independent swordsman. Or at least, that’s what he told himself as he and Charlotte faced off against each other. The other girl didn’t like him at all but she knew he was the only one willing to fight her. So, they held their finely pruned tree branches in hand and bashed them against each other. Sometimes the others would stop their work to watch but often times the two just carried on wailing on each other until one of them was tackled to the ground and they started wrestling. He was distracted briefly by the return of the search party and Charlotte capitalized on his distraction. 

 

The girl tackled him to the ground and straddled him as she started beating his face. The girl didn’t have much of any muscle mass yet so the hits were relatively ineffective. Jake pushed her up and off him slightly before rolling away. She huffed and fell to the ground and he heard a faint applause. 

 

“Good job, little man,” Octavia chuckled. She’d changed since the last time Jake saw her. Her clothing was the same but fresher  than any of the others. The delinquents had failed to truly grasp what hygiene meant on the ground. Her smile was larger than he’d ever seen it and she had a new dagger on her waist. It wasn’t made from the same old dropship material as all the rest of their weapons. It looked like real iron. Something forged and not ripped and then sharpened. Octavia had stood there and watched their fight and was impressed that Jake had thrown off the bigger girl. Sometimes Octavia forgot that the kid was only 6. Half the age of Charlotte, the second youngest. 

 

Suddenly Jake realized who was standing in front of him and he rushed forward to hug Octavia. She laughed as the little boy wrapped her in a great big hug. He said something but it was muffled by her clean pants. 

 

“What’s up little man?” Octavia asked. 

 

Jake looked up and flashed her a massive grin, “I missed you!” 

 

“I missed you too little man. So, how’s your internal quest going?” Octavia ruffled his hair. It was dark and curly, nothing like the hair of the grounder she’d spent the last three days with. 

 

“I tried to figure out how to be not-Clarke. According to Wells she was a pacifist and a healer so I thought why not fight, right?” Jake grinned at her. He’d let go of his bear grip on Octavia to talk with his hands. His head had rested nicely against her stomach and Octavia found herself missing the warmth. The kid gave good hugs. 

 

Octavia openly laughed at that. If only these kids knew. “Why not? I can teach you what I know little man.” 

 

“Octavia?"

 

“Yeah little man?"

 

“Why are you calling me that?” Jake asked as he looked up at her. He was twisting his hands behind his back nervously. He didn’t like questioning his new friend and teacher. 

 

“Because the way I see it, you’re a hell of a lot wiser than any of these _branwoda,”_ Octavia smiled down at her new student. 

 

“These what?” Octavia realized her mistake. Maybe her time with her new people had changed her more than she thought. 

 

“Idiots. You’re smarter than a lot of these idiots Jake. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.” Octavia ruffled his hair again before walking into the dropship. She had a mission from Clarke and it didn’t do to let the Bloody Smile down. 

 

“She likes you,” Jake turned around to see Charlotte standing behind him. She had her hands on her hips and was frowning at the little boy, “I can’t possibly understand why.” 

 

“Again?” Jake asked. Charlotte wasn’t the best conversationalist or brawler but she could swing a tree branch like no one else he’d ever fought. Which was no one because she’s the only one who’d fight him. 

 

Charlotte grabbed her tree branch and ran at Jake. He lifted his own and blocked her first strike. 


	5. Sparks from the Anvil

Wells had fallen asleep while on guard duty. He sat just outside the gates of the drop ship’s reinforcements. He’d taken a short break on his fifth circle around the wall and just fallen asleep where he sat. He made for a lousy guard but he’d been the only one willing to do it since the others were all interrogating their prisoner.

 

Charlotte crept slowly towards him. Feet slowly lowering to the ground in an attempt to avoid waking him up. Wells was used to the sounds of the Ark and so he slept soundly through her ruckus. She had a knife in her right hand. Tonight she was going to take Bellamy’s advice and kill her demon. The faces of the Chancellor’s sons chased her into nightmares. Jake would survive a night longer because he slept wrapped in the arms of Octavia. That he made for a good sparring partner was also a factor in his continued survival. The 6-year-old would meet his justice soon enough. In Charlotte’s opinion, he should never have been born in the first place.

 

Charlotte reached out and tried to grab Wells. She never reached her goal as a hand wrapped around her mouth and she was pulled away from her prey by another arm. The knife was snatched out of her grasp and dropped onto the ground next to the sleeping Wells.

 

“Checkmate,” said Octavia from where she stood behind the girl, “Charlotte it’s time for us to have a nice, long talk.” Charlotte licked the hand Octavia had over her mouth but Octavia had planned ahead and worn gloves. Charlotte tried to kick her but Octavia took the hits easily.

 

Octavia carried the girl away and the two left Wells asleep outside the gate behind them. Though Charlotte tried to kick and scream, the 12-year-old was no match for Octavia. Briefly, as Octavia was carrying the girl away, she wondered about another 12-year-old girl who’d been in much the same situation. Clarke had fallen to Earth at 12, but she’d been alone. She’d had to survive on her own and she learned how to fit in with the Grounders. She assimilated so well that now she was one of their leaders. However, Octavia had one major question that she didn’t think even Clarke could answer. How much had Clarke lost in order to become the Bloody Smile? How much of Clarke Griffin was left in the grounder?

 

* * *

 

Lincoln grunted as another one of the sky people cut him. They did not understand torture. Their skills were rudimentary and lacked the finesse built up in generations of Tree Clan torturers. He could bare this. He could even enjoy this. The way their faces were scrunched. They were furious at his clan for protecting their own territory. They were confused like ducklings without their mother. They were as harmless as mice no matter how much the others imagined them to be rats.

 

The true torture was not knowing what was happening back in Anya’s camp. He’d seen only a glimpse of the Bloody Smile before he’d been sent away on his mission. For the legendary Boat Clan warrior to be here the Commander must be taking the threat presented by these sky people seriously. The Smile had not even been brought in when the Commander was starting to plan her assault on the mountain. Anya had never had many positive things to say about the North. She considered them barbarians. In Anya’s perspective, Ice Nation, Boat Clan and Blue Cliff all had two things in common, their religious fanaticism and their warmongering. The Commander's alliance with Mother Luna had infuriated Anya. Though Anya had always been a silent fury. Her anger dwelt underneath the surface until suddenly it would explode.

 

Lincoln had been there when Smile first met Commander. He’d been in the arena during their first fight in Hali. He’d seen the look on Anya’s face when the Bloody Smile won.

 

He would never forget it.

 

Since then he’d served faithfully at Anya’s side, waiting. One day she would explode and he’d be there to help put out the flames. He disagreed with the Commander on many things, the Bloody Smile’s continued freedom being the first. However, Lincoln agreed with her on one major detail. Peace was essential to the success and betterment of all 12 clans. The coalition must stand, no matter who is at the head. Anya’s attitude could not be allowed to ruin it.

 

Lincoln regretted that he could not be there in her camp to prevent the potential disaster. Instead, he was surrounded by sky people. His mission was to be captured and held by them so that they could learn more of what occurred inside of their camp. He’d learned little aside from their incompetence so far. Well, admittedly he had learned that their leader’s name was Bellamy and not Salami but that was useless information.

 

“Who are you?” Bellamy asked again as he cut Lincoln a fifth time. Wells was being held back on the other side of the ship.

 

“Stop! Stop it! What are you doing?!” Wells begged. He was crying. Simply because the grounder was not reacting didn’t mean that this was acceptable. To Wells, this torture represented the end of any possibility of peace between their peoples.

 

Lincoln was confused by his reaction. He did not understand the tears. Tears should only be shed at a funeral or a birth. Or when in the extremes of pain. Perhaps Wells was a mutation much like his younger brother. He must be in constant pain from the shame he presented to his clan. Most likely not. Lincoln hypothesized that the sky people hated Jake for a reason other than mutation.

 

Somehow, two of their healers were conferencing together and managed to communicate over all of the noise. That was the finest talent he’d seen the sky people display so far. Their ignorance was so thorough it could be considered a gift.

 

“Answer me!” Bellamy cut him again. One of the sky people standing behind him seemed to enjoy it. He smiled rather like the Bloody Smile did. That was scarier than any of their knives.

 

Bellamy continued his yelling. He’d most likely stop only when his throat ceased full function. Lincoln would happily provide him that relief if not for the chains wrapped around his hands. He tugged at them to test their strength. They held. Bellamy had backed off when Lincoln was pulling at his chains and he now seemed to think that this meant Lincoln’s coming surrender.

 

“Bellamy!” The two conferencing healers called over their leader. The three gathered to whisper together as Wells rushed over to Lincoln.

 

“This isn’t right, not right at all,” Wells whispered to himself as he bandaged the wounds. The sky person was either a poor healer or an excellent torturer as the clear liquid he poured over the wounds stung worse than a branding. Lincoln’s world flashed white as he finally screamed.

 

“What did you do?” Bellamy was asking Wells when Lincoln came back around.

 

“I just poured the alcohol on his cuts! I didn’t know!” Wells defended himself. The boy seemed quite upset about his successful torture. He was just a poor healer then.

 

“Just leave Wells.” Bellamy dismissed his healer. The sobs had been annoying Lincoln and so he was pleased with this new development.

 

“Time for something new,” the shorter healer said. The two ignorant conversationalists had ended their conversation and now stood in front of them. They each held a metal claw, one black and one red.

 

They touched them to his skin and Lincoln screamed as his world whited out from the pain. This had not been a part of the mission description. He hoped Anya would free him soon.

 

* * *

 

“You’ve grown up, Clarke,” Anya said. She was sitting on the ground soaked in sweat from their spar. She had a thin cut on her shoulder from where Clarke had gotten in a lucky strike.

 

Clarke stood next to her with a few dirt scuffs on her knees and back but ultimately unharmed. She wiped away the sweat from her forehead before responding, “You’ve grown old, Anya.”

 

Anya tried to laugh but she ended up wheezing, “Was I ever young?”

 

“None of us were.” Clarke unbuckled the clasps on her metal gauntlet before sliding it off. The burn scars on her palm were from when she’d pulled a second away from his mentor’s funeral pyre. It had been a sad visit to Blue Cliff. She refitted the sizing of the gauntlet before sliding it on again.

 

“Ever the smart ass,” Anya did manage to laugh at that. She offered a hand to Clarke who helped pull her up to her feet.

 

“Always. What do you think of these sky people?” Clarke asked.

 

“Ignorant, but they seemed to be setting up for rapid expansion. First the wild mating and then the reinforcements. They mean to make this their home,” Anya and Clarke began walking back towards their camp. Anya’s guards joined them at the edge of the clearing but kept a respectful distance from Clarke’s swords.

 

“Lincoln will return soon enough with more details of their plans. Our spy will also soon have to report,” Clarke said. She shifted so that one of her hands rested on the hilt of the long dagger she wore on her waist.

 

Anya wished to ask her what she had said to make the female sky person join their side. It had been a good choice. Anya had walked in on one of Clarke’s training sessions with the girl and had to admit that Octavia had a talent for getting up after being knocked down. Something she and Clarke had in common. The first time Anya had heard of the Bloody Smile it was from a trader who told the tale of the warrior who executed her best friend. That was a trait she could admire.

 

She’d learned of Clarke’s less admirable traits the second she met her. Anya would always remember that Clarke had black blood on her face when she first met Lexa. She’d always remember that Clarke smiled at every kill for a reason. She’d always remember the screams that came from Luna’s house on the day Costia’s head was delivered to Hali. She’d always remember the blood that soaked Clarke’s armour when she came to deliver the messenger’s head to Lexa. She would never be able to forget that Clarke had been the one to kill Queen Nia of the Ice Nation and steal her throne. It did not matter than Roan was the one who warmed the seat now.

 

Anya looked at the warrior walking beside her. Only a decade ago she’d have attacked this warrior on first sight. Now, due to Lexa’s Coalition, she admired her. At least a little. Clarke had a kill count high enough that it couldn’t fill her back. Anya feared the capabilities of anyone she chose to teach. Bevin, Clarke’s last second, had been taken by the mountain. Whisked off and never seen again. Brenna, her first second, had been murdered in her sleep. Thus far, Anya hadn’t had the chance to fear any of Clarke’s seconds.

 

She’d just had to fear the woman beside her. The warrior who’d left their spar without a scratch. Suddenly Anya felt older than ever. She should leave the leading to Tristan and become an elder. Retire to a nice, calm village far away from the mountain and this coalition. She would be able to freely yell at the young foolish seconds and take up a calming hobby like carving or fishing.

 

Anya got the feeling that this dream of retirement would never come to pass. She loved the thrill of battle far too much to accept existence as an elder. She loved contributing to the good of the whole too much to enjoy being fully dependent on anyone. If she was to die it would be on another’s sword, not as a coward on a sick bed. Let her die on the battlefield and fight until the very end. If that meant she had to work with monsters like the woman who sheltered in the cave beside her, then she would do it. Anya was nothing if not pragmatic.

 

She would work with Clarke of the Bloody Smile until the warrior was consumed by her nature. Then, one of them would die on the other’s sword.

 

“What do you think of Octavia of the Sky People?” Clarke asked her then. She’d been silent ever since Anya had let the conversation die. They’d both been lost in their own thoughts but now as they neared the entrance to the camp it was the last chance they’d have to say anything freely.

 

“She is determined,” Anya responded.

 

“She is. I think Indra will like her,” Clarke said. Indra would like the girl. Clarke’s determination was the core reason the Tree Clan general tolerated her. Anya denied that they were friends. Even with the coalition friends were not made across clan lines.

 

“Why care for Indra’s opinion?” Anya asked.

 

“I won’t train another second. Not after the last two,” Clarke said. She was curt, to the point. Anya thought that Clarke did not want to relive the memories of finding out about the deaths of her last two seconds. She was only half correct.

 

“You’ll have to convince Indra of her value first. Prove her determination,” Anya coerced. It would be good to not have to worry about a second trained by Clarke. Anya would offer her own tutelage if she did not have already have a second herself.

 

Clarke nodded, “One of my warriors will fight her when they arrive. They will show Indra her worth. A Boat Clan warrior trained by a Tree Clan general. Lexa will approve."

 

“She will. You know how she likes her stories,” Anya agreed. Ever since Lexa had returned from Clarke’s clan she had been occupied with reading a book. It was the stories of Clarke’s people. The written history of Ragnarök. They’d repossessed it from a smuggler trying to bring it into Tree Clan land.

 

“She loves them. When I started telling her about the stars she wouldn’t stop asking me questions,” Clarke replied.

 

“Lexa told me one of your stories. The one about the wolf who swallows the sun,” Anya had thought it was a metaphor for the fog. Lexa had been outraged, saying that to limit it to just the mountain men’s fog was an injustice. The girl was more obsessed with the North’s stories than Titus was with the Flame.

 

That was a lie, nothing could surpass Titus’ fanaticism.

 

“Oh, Fenrir!” Clarke smiled. It was a different smile from her bloody one. Maybe it was the missing skull mask but this smile reached her eyes. Clarke chuckled lightly, “Mother used to tell that story to me to make me sleep during thunderstorms."

 

Anya tried to imagine Clarke as a child with wispy blond hair, hiding beneath her covers. She tried to imagine what her mother must look like, to create a child like this. Anya wanted to ask Clarke about her Mother, but they had already reached the entrance to the camp. More questions could wait, now was the time for scouting.

 

* * *

 

“How dare you indulge in this blasphemy!” Titus yelled. He hefted the book in his hand and shook it at Lexa like she was one of his night blood children. “Their lies of Ragnarök! Have you become one of them? Are you sleeping with those Northerners?” Titus questioned her. He was jabbing the book into her chest.

 

Lexa grabbed the book out of his hands and placed it back on her bed. The Flamekeeper had stormed into her room and seen her reading the book. He’d immediately began threatening her and now two of Lexa’s guards stood inches behind him. Titus was so swept up in his anger that he hadn’t noticed the guards.  Lexa growled and pushed him back, “How dare you storm in here-"

 

“How dare I?! How dare you read that!” Titus cut Lexa off and gestured at the book, “You are supposed-“ Lexa’s guards cut him off as they accosted him and held him. “Let me go! Let me go this instant!” Titus struggled but he was a flamekeeper, not a warrior.

 

Pity he wasn’t one of those Northerners he so despised. Even their archivists knew how to fight. Titus had always left that part of a  Nightblood’s training to others.

 

Lexa resumed her conversation as one of the guards stuffed a rag into his mouth to silence him,"How dare you storm in here demanding things of your Commander. I am no longer one of your children, Titus. You were my advisor and Flamekeeper because I respected you,” Titus was red in the face from trying to scream through the gag, “I do not understand your denial of the Northerner’s religion. You can accept the other clans, you can train their children but you refused to tolerate their beliefs. If I am to be the leader of this coalition I must understand all 12 clans, not just 9. Their Mother has endorsed the Flame and so they listen. It is just that I know why they follow her.”

 

Lexa grabbed her sword from its position on her bedside table. She drew the blade from its scabbard and held the point just underneath his chin, “Then you dared to suggest that I have been sleeping with a Northerner. You dared to suggest that I am disloyal to my clan. You called Ragnarök blasphemy when I see signs of the truth of their religion everywhere. They told us the sky would rain fire and people would emerge from the flames. Their prophecies have come true, while ours are from a past only you have knowledge of. Your order could be lying to us. Your order could be the blasphemous ones.”

 

Lexa allowed her words to sink in. She watched as Titus narrowed his eyes at her, as his yelling stopped.

 

“Take him away,” Lexa told her guards and they obeyed. Pity, now she would have to find a new advisor.

 

She looked at the book on her bed. “Tales of Ragnarök” was the name on the front of the thick book. It had nice pictures of the creatures Clarke had told her of. Some of the pictures had the creature’s constellations next to them. In the North, it was a crime to possess this book. Lexa could not understand why. First of all, reading was such a rare skill that very few would be able to decipher more than just the pictures. Secondly, thus far into Lexa’s reading, it had been entirely accurate to Clarke’s version of the story.

 

Lexa flipped through the story until she got to the end. Soon the story would be sure to mention the paths of White and Black. It would be sure to mention the Mother’s sovereign rule over all of the North.

 

However, as Lexa continued reading she could find no mention of the Mother. She found no mention of the paths of White and Black. Lexa soon realized why this book was outlawed. This book could prove that the Mother was not the mandated sole ruler of the North. This book could prove that Clarke’s training and induction into the warriors of the Black were for nothing. But why? Why would this exist?

 

Lexa lit another candle and sat down to read the book again. She would try to find the meaning behind this. If the belief system of Ragnarök was not the justification behind Luna’s leadership, what was? The Commander was resolved to find out. She wanted to learn as much as possible about the Northerners. Her words to Titus about wanting to understand and lead all 12 clans had not been a lie. The Commander’s spirit was guiding her in this matter. She felt compelled to find the truth. If all else failed, she would ask Clarke herself. The Bloody Smile had never failed to be truthful with her before.

 

* * *

 

Jake wandered through the tents around the dropship. Octavia hadn’t been around all day and Jake hadn’t been able to find Charlotte either. Both of his sparring partners were gone. He needed to find another way to become strong. He’d taken to wandering after the guards in order to fill the gap in his training life. However, the guards hadn’t been doing much besides working.

 

That wasn’t exciting enough for the young Jaha. He hadn’t seen much in his 6 years of life but he knew that there was more to living than working.

 

He’d wandered into the dropship once earlier that day to try and get out of the sun. The glare Wells had given him had sent him right back out again. His brother had spent so much time on the upper level treating Jasper and helping torture that grounder that Jake sometimes forgot him. Then Wells would glare or yell and Jake would remember again.

 

“Jaha!” Bellamy shouted behind him. Jake panicked and frantically looked around but he couldn’t see Wells anywhere. A hand grabbed his shoulder and Jake realized it was him the guard wanted, “I meant you, kid. I noticed you’ve been following my men.”

 

Jake nodded. Bellamy had big hands. They were the size of his shoulder. Jake knew the kind of damage big hands like that could do.

 

“Your brother doesn’t like you,” Bellamy commented. Jake was amazed at his powers of observation. Octavia had been teaching his sarcasm. Bellamy continued, “But for some reason my sister does.”

 

Jake nodded again. It was no lie that the younger Blake liked him. Jake couldn’t understand why either.

 

“Tell you what, if you take that bracelet off,” Bellamy tugged at the chunky bracelet on Jake’s wrist, “Then I’ll teach you some things too. You’re young enough that all that Jaha attitude didn’t pass down to you. Plus, you remind me of O’ kid.”

 

Jake didn’t know how to take the bracelet off, so he asked, “How?”

 

“Same attitude, you know?” Bellamy answered. He didn’t understand Jake’s question.

 

“How do I take it off?” Jake asked again.

 

“I’ll help you.”

 

* * *

 

Somewhere far away, Abby Griffin screamed as her six-year-old son’s portrait went grey. She fell to the ground, shackles clanging together as she curled up on the floor and cried. The guards who stood next to her watched her and refused to help.

 

Marcus Kane scoffed from across the control room, “Shouldn’t have been alive in the first place. Shame that the kid had to live such a sad life though.”

 

“Chancellor?” One of the lab technicians asked.

 

“Pick 300, the useless ones. Let them float.”

 

There was a lot of shooting stars in the sky that night.


	6. Across the Eddas

“There is something I do not understand,” Lexa said. She’d stormed into the cell block underneath Polis ready to fight Titus for every scrap of his knowledge about the North. However, when she arrived he’d had less fight to him than a piece of moss set adrift down a river. The Flamekeeper was curled up in one of the corners of his cell, trying to maintain warmth in the cold and dampness of the dungeons. He ignored his Commander in an attempt to keep the rest of his dignity. 

 

Lexa continued, “I’ve read their entire book, but there is nothing about the warriors of black and white.” She stood on the other side of the bars where the candles were with a hand ready to draw her sword. To Titus, she was a silhouette against the light. To her, Titus was a splotch of colour in the darkness. 

 

This sparked something in Titus as he chuckled, “Blasphemy, I told you. Not just to our order either. Their Smile’s hands are not just stained with the blood of other clans. “ He uncurled slightly and shivered at the loss of the rest of his warmth. His eyes reflected the flames of the candles, “There is a sect, in the North, of people who question the rule of the Mother for the same reasons you now do. Your favoured Smile is the one who hunts them. These houses of black and white exist only because of the need to place someone in power. Luna has no reason for her power."

 

Lexa sighed. It was just as she suspected, “Your hatred clouds your judgement. There must be a reason for Luna’s rule and if it is not their beliefs then it is her strength. Even a Commander with the Flame will not be obeyed if they lead poorly. Is all of our religion told in a single book?” 

 

Titus’ silence was her answer. 

 

“Then why would theirs? The real reason I’ve approached you is to ask where the rest of the story is. Who can I ask for knowledge?” Lexa asked. She took her hand off her sword. 

 

“Ask your Smile. Ask her where she comes from, and why her people exist. See how quickly she draws her sword,” Titus sneered, “They’re monsters up there. Clansmen kill clansmen. Their warriors of the Black kill more than can fit on their backs and call that service.” 

 

“I executed a tree clan warrior for treason this morning. And they are the monsters,” Lexa replied. She laughed, a little. The executions were a common issue. Warriors grew too full of themselves and turned on their leaders all too often. It was something that the Southern clans dealt with far more often than the North. Once she stopped laughing Lexa continued, “The Smile is the first of her order in two generations."

 

“Lie. There have been two others in my lifetime. The first was barely trained before one of your predecessors killed her. The second sits on that throne to this day. Very few people remember it now but there was a time when Luna was not called the Mother,” Titus was lecturing again. It reminded Lexa of her younger days when all she had to worry about was remembering Titus’ teachings for tests and comparing herself against her fellow Nightbloods. 

 

“Of course there was, she has not lived forever and there was a Mother before her. She was not born to the position,” Lexa recited the facts. 

 

Titus sighed. Despite his fall from grace, he was still a teacher. He was disappointed in himself for failing to teach Lexa the necessary skills to come to this conclusion on her own. “Luna was once a warrior of the black. Most have forgotten now that she took their throne by killing her predecessor and betraying her sister. Most have forgotten that once there was no Boat Clan or Ice Nation, but one Clan lead by the Mother. Most have forgotten that Queen Nia-"

 

Lexa had heard enough, “If you continue with these lies your stay in my dungeon will end.” 

 

Titus just sighed at that, “I am a terrible teacher."

 

“I agree.” 

 

“I’ve failed you, Lexa, for you cannot grasp what is right in front of your face,” Titus stood and walked over to the bars. He looked a mess with his clothes dishevelled and stained. The thick circles under his eyes and the faint blue tint to his face spoke to his health. 

 

Lexa just turned and started to leave.

 

“Wait!” 

 

Lexa paused. 

 

“There is one thing that you must know. Do not trust Luna or Clarke or any of the Northerners. They are more bloodthirsty than you know."

 

“I know plenty about bloodthirst,” Lexa said as she left the dungeon and her old teacher behind. There were two people she knew would have the answers she searched for. She dispatched two messengers, one for Hali and the other towards Anya’s camp near the fallen giants. However, before her answers came more war meetings. 

 

* * *

 

“You can let me go now. I understand what I did,” Charlotte moaned. Octavia had kept her chained to a tree in the middle of the forest for over two days. 

 

Octavia grinned from where she was roasting one of the rodents she’d caught over the fire, “Do you?"

 

“I shouldn’t have tried to kill him. I get that,” Charlotte pulled at the rope around her wrists behind her back. Her wrists and forearms were tied together behind her back and then those ropes were connected to the tree. She had a little bit of leeway to do some walking but there was no chance of her getting away. The young sky girl didn’t understand how Octavia had learned how to tie her knots so well. 

 

“And?” Octavia replied. 

 

“And I won’t do it again. Now let me go!” Charlotte demanded. 

 

“Hmm,” Octavia hummed as she turned back to her fire. The younger girl was annoying and Octavia no longer wanted to deal with her. Plus all of this babysitting was detracting from her time with Jake. The little Jaha was becoming more and more like his older half-sister every day. It was something Octavia’s older brother had noticed as well. Bellamy had been taking care of Jake in the times Octavia couldn’t. Something Wells either did not appreciate or notice. 

 

“You promise?” Octavia asked. She made a baby voice like she was talking to a toddler. 

 

“Yes! Let me go!” Charlotte pleaded. 

 

“Okay.” Octavia stood and cut the rope binding Charlotte’s arms together, “Shoo.” Now there was more food for Octavia to eat by herself after all. 

 

* * *

 

“The sky is burning!” One of the sentries yelled. It was the second such event in less than a fortnight. Indra groaned. This would bring even more foreigners into her city. The first such event had been enough for Clarke to return from her isolation in Hali. The second would bring far greater terrors. These ones might not be her friends. 

 

“Prepare to depart!” Indra yelled. She’d been preparing to ride out and meet Clarke at Anya’s camp but this new arrival took precedent. Indra mounted her horse and took off towards the crash site with her scouts around her. This one had landed too close to their village for her liking. 

 

As Indra and her warriors departed their camp, so too did Clarke and Anya leave theirs. Clarke was heading towards TonDC to answer Lexa’s message. Anya was heading to investigate the new impact. 

 

The 100 had a different reaction to this impact. That had yet to see someone else fall from the sky and so they watched it with terror. Who could this be? The ship was too small to be carrying too many people from the Ark, but for Bellamy, this felt too much like the beginning of his judgement. 

 

* * *

 

Octavia got there first. She’d just released Charlotte when the ship fell only a ten-minute hike away from her position. Happily, Charlotte had run the other way upon release and the younger girl did not return to investigate the fallen ship. The small shuttle lay in the middle of a burnt clearing. The clearing was still smouldering as Octavia wandered through it. 

 

“Hello?” Octavia asked. There was no response. She ran over to the door and tried to pry it open. It wouldn’t budge. She could see someone through a window so she circled around the ship to the other side. There was a door there that also wouldn’t budge. She got a better view of the woman inside though. Her darker skin and black hair had blood on them. On the fourth side of the ship, there was a slightly cracked windshield. Octavia smiled, now she got to have some fun. She ran out of the blast radius and grabbed the first branch she saw that wasn’t on fire. After she ran back she rammed it into the windshield and cracked it a bit more. 

 

She backed up and ran again. She did it twice more before the cracks had spread far enough. She backed up a third time and on this try, the glass cracked. It shattered and Octavia winced as she got a little bit cut up. Most of the glass shattered inwards onto the unconscious woman. Octavia climbed through the ship and cut her pants on the calf as she stepped in. The doors had emergency releases on the inside so she pressed those to open the door on the side of the unconscious woman. 

 

Octavia took her pulse, still alive. She didn’t want to move her because lesson one of first aid on the ark had been not to move someone with a suspected spinal injury. Even the floor girl knew that one. 

 

Suddenly Octavia could hear grounders. She’d learned what the language sounded like from her time with Clarke but she couldn’t understand more than a few words. 

 

"I laik Octavia kom Floukru!” Octavia yelled. It was the first thing Clarke had taught her. 

 

The grounders paused before one of them yelled something back. Octavia didn’t know how to respond so she repeated her first statement. Soon enough a general appeared before her, “I laik Indra kom Trikru.” 

 

“Hi,” Octavia said. She could tell the woman’s rank because of her bearing. She ranked up with Clarke on the intimidation factor as Octavia knelt beside the unconscious Arker, “I work for the Bloody Smile. My old people will be here soon.” Octavia told her. Just being associated with the smile should be enough for the general to listen to her. It should cover up the fact that she didn’t speak their language. Hopefully, this Indra would understand that. 

 

The general nodded. “You are a spy and a traitor,” Indra said as she nodded and pointed to the sky people clothing Octavia had on. 

 

“No. Just a spy,” Octavia responded. Indra rattled something off in Trigedasleng. When Octavia didn’t respond she smiled. 

 

“See. Traitor. But the right kind of traitor,” Indra nodded again before one of her scouts shouted something. “Niko!” She commanded and the giant warrior appeared. She demanded something from him in trigedasleng before the giant handed her a vial from his belt pouch. 

 

“They will help. You should report in soon. Clarke will want to know about this,” Indra said as she and Niko turned to leave. Indra looked over her shoulder once before she left to see Octavia looking in wonderment down at the vials in her hand, “Don’t just sit there! Move!” Indra commanded before she left the clearing. Octavia doubted she went very far.  

 

Octavia jerked into action. She’d seen the stuff in the vial before on Jasper’s wounds. Clarke had smeared some of the stuff on her too after a bad training session. The source of the blood on the unconscious woman was a cut on her forehead which Octavia lightly dabbed with some of the ointment. 

 

“Ugh,” the woman groaned, “Finn?” She was waking up and trying to move but Octavia tried to hold her still. 

 

“Wait. You’re hurt.” 

 

“Not Finn,” the woman slurred as she quieted down. She blinked a couple of times before slowly looking up and around. 

 

“Green,” she wondered. Octavia laughed. 

 

“Yeah, it is. Welcome to Earth!” Octavia laughed a little bit more. The woman chuckled a little bit before coughing. The laughter wasn’t so good for her lungs. “Easy there,” Octavia cautioned. 

 

“Who are you?” The woman asked as soon as her coughing stopped. 

 

“Octavia Blake. One of the 100. You?” Octavia asked. It was somewhat cramped inside of the shuttle but she didn’t want to awkwardly crawl over the injured woman to get out and trying to go out the window would hurt. 

 

“Raven. Is Finn alive?” Raven asked as she wiped her eyes and gingerly explored the cut on her head. 

 

“Last time I checked. What are you doing down here?” 

 

“Abby Jaha sent me, she’s looking for Jake.” A bit of Octavia bristled at that. So much care and effort for her son but next to no care for her daughter who’d been in the same situation 6 years prior. 

 

Suddenly, Raven jolted as she realized she’d forgotten something, “Shit. I’ve got to call her.” Raven pushed Octavia aside lightly before grabbing something from behind her. Octavia’s heart started racing as she realized it was a radio. Raven could contact the Ark. She could tell them to come down. The Arkers could bring down their guns with them. 

 

The Arkers would bring Abby Jaha with them. Clarke could get her revenge. But would she want it? 

 

“Abby?” Raven asked into the radio. 

 

“Raven!” That was the voice of Abby Jaha. 

 

“The ground is survivable. I’m down here, I’m safe. One of the 100 found me.” Octavia didn’t know how she felt about this. Should she help Raven? She’s already made the call now. There was nothing really for Octavia to prevent any more. All she could do was report this to Clarke and hope that the grounder warrior knew how to handle this. 

 

“Who? Wells?” That was the chancellor. Octavia would know his voice anywhere. This was the man who gave Charlotte nightmares. This was the man who had killed her mother. 

 

“Octavia Blake,” Octavia took over the radio to say her name. 

 

“And my sons?” The chancellor asked. 

 

“Alive,” Octavia told him. She felt guilty about it. If the chancellor truly cared for his sons they wouldn’t be as mentally messed up as they were. Wells wouldn’t be mourning over a girl he thought dead 6 years ago and Jake wouldn’t be constantly striving to prove himself to everyone around him. Well, maybe Jake would still seek that approval but maybe people would be willing to give it to him. 

 

She could hear Abby crying over the radio. 

 

“What about the wristbands?” Octavia remembered those. She’d been one of the first people to take hers off. They had not been designed with comfort in mind. Hers felt a lot like a shackle. 

 

Octavia chose not to answer the question. 

 

“We’ll come down soon. Don’t worry, we’ll protect you all.” Octavia bristled at that. When the adults arrived it wouldn’t be them protecting the 100, the 100 would be protecting them. The Chancellor didn’t know how to hunt or fight of grounders, Octavia did. 

 

“I don’t need protecting,” Octavia turned off the radio. Raven was smiling at her, "Come on Raven, let’s go back to the dropship. Everyone will want to meet you,” Octavia pushed the older girl out the door. The mechanic was cradling the radio in her arms. 

 

Just as they got out of the ship Bellamy came running out of the tree line towards them. His face fell as he saw in order me, Raven and then the radio in her arms. The radio made him positively furious. Bellamy didn’t want the Ark coming down. Octavia thought he didn’t want to lose control over the kingdom of grounders he’d built himself. 

 

Octavia would be happy to see that kingdom end. 

 

* * *

 

Wells sat off to the side on the bottom floor of the Ark. The top floor was still occupied with the grounder prisoner and so he had been shucked to the bottom with Finn. He’d managed to take out the knife but the spacewalker hadn’t woken up yet. Now he was playing a waiting game. 

 

He took his photo of Clarke out of his pocket again. He traced her face. The soft smile and blond hair would never leave him. He may forget the face of his own mother and eventually his father but Clarke would stick with him. If only by virtue of how long he’d spent tracing her face. If only he could draw like she could. Maybe then he’d be able to accurately capture her eyes. The eyes in this photo have bags under them, haunted by something. His Clarke wasn’t like that. 

 

His Clarke was different. 

 

Finn jerked upwards suddenly. His back arched as his body shook. His mouth started foaming as his eyes rolled back. Wells raced forward and tried to keep him from hitting his head. He tried to do something, anything to stop the shaking. But Finn wouldn’t stop. His mouth foamed and a long, screaming moan came from him. 

 

“Help!” Wells yelled. Some of the others came to him but they didn’t know what to do. Finn just kept shaking. Wells tried to hold him down and got some of the others to help too. But the shaking wouldn’t stop even with them holding him. 

 

“Help!” Wells yelled again, “Finn! No. No! NO!” Finn started to still. Wells checked his pulse. Whereas before it was lightning quick now it was slowing down. Wells felt it pulse one and then it stopped. 

 

Finn was dead. 

 

“No!” Wells yelled. The others were looking at him and Finn’s body in shock. Wells stood and yelled. He punched the wall of the dropship. He grabbed his hand and cried. Clarke would’ve saved him. Clarke’ would’ve known what to do. It was Wells’ fault that Finn was dead. His own incompetence. His failure. Wells would never have struck out like that. Never have hit something in anger. But Finn was dead. His one ally among the 100, gone. He was alone. 

 

The others left him alone as he sat there, against the wall of the dropship. He stared at the corpse in front of him. He stared at his own failure. He didn’t notice the ruckus as the others returned.

 

* * *

 

The boat clan warriors marched through the woods. While their capital city, Hali, was surrounded by trees the warriors did very little training among them. They were more at home in their arena, on a beach or out at sea on one of their ships. The warriors tore through the underbrush until they found the road to their destination. There were 30 of them walking in addition to two wagons for their equipment. The remaining 10 members of the crew were back at the harbour with their ships. They did not understand the Trikru’s land-based cities. Trikru cities were bad for defence, trade, and governing. 

 

Some in the boat clan thought they were akin to barbarians. They didn’t even eat fish! Barbarians. 

 

Before the warriors could reach the city of TonDC, someone else found them first. Thunderous hoofbeats came from the path behind them. The warriors drew their weapons and turned to face the threat. 

 

Clarke of the Bloody Smile rode around the corner on the back of a black horse. At the sight of them, she ground to a halt. She looked at the warriors in front of her, “Took you long enough!” 

 

Their leader, the Captain of the Blue Mane, stepped forward to speak to her. The warriors put their weapons away, sheepish at unknowingly having drawn them on the person they meant to protect. 

 

“We were delayed. Luna had to find a new ambassador,” the captain bowed, “Ambassador Derrick of the Blue Mane, at your service.” 

 

Clarke nodded, "I will meet you in the city. Do not repeat your predecessor’s mistakes,” Clarke warned him. She pressed her horse into a walk and rode through the gathering of her warriors. They looked at her with wide eyes. To most Clarke of the Bloody Smile was nothing but a myth. She was the legendary heir to their even more legendary leader. Their awe was nothing to her now. It’d shocked her at first and once it had frightened her, but now it was more of the same. 

 

“I will!” Derrick yelled at her. 

 

* * *

 

Octavia returned with Raven and Bellamy to much fanfare. The radio was greeted happily by the 100, most of them wanted to hear from their parents or friends at home. Bellamy was too focused on glaring at everyone and anything and Raven had found a tent to fall asleep in. The mechanic was exhausted by her fall to Earth and head injury.

 

It was finally time for her to do her first actual mission for Clarke. She took out the vial she’d been given and slipped it into Monty’s keg of moonshine. She waited an hour or so for the entire camp to get drunk on the stuff. They were partying away at the news reinforcement from the sky would soon come. It would be over a month until they were ready, but they would come. 

 

Octavia still didn’t know how to feel about that. Once she was sure that she wouldn’t be noticed by any of the hallucinating delinquents she snuck into the dropship. Wells was sitting, asleep in one corner. Finn’s body had been covered with a tarp. Nobody had told Raven that she had just barely missed her boyfriend’s death. 

 

She climbed up the ladder to the second floor and then up again to the third. There was one of Bellamy’s stooges on guard but the cup of moonshine next to him showed that he too was in a stupor. She tied up the guard before turning to the grounder. Lincoln was the name Clarke had told her. 

 

“You are Lincoln of the Tree Clan. I laik Octavia kom Floukru. Do you remember me?” Octavia used both of her languages to prove her allegiances to Lincoln. He was the grounder who’d rescued her and got her recruited to Clarke’s clan. She was now repaying the favour. 

 

The grounder stirred and groaned as he did. He was lightly beaten up but both of them had seen worse injuries. The burns were the worst of them though. Two electric burn marks on his stomach. No grounder training would’ve been able to prepare him for that. Octavia undid his chains and supported him as he started to collapse. 

 

“You have to report back to Clarke and Anya,” Octavia handed back Lincoln’s equipment and clothing and helped him get dressed, “Use the knowledge you gained here well,” Octavia whispered as she helped him down the ladder. 

 

They snuck out of the dropship together. They nearly got caught by a wandering Jasper but he was too out of it to notice them. 

 

Now they stood at the edge of the camp. Both of them had rescued the other at least once. 

 

“Thank you, Octavia kom Floukru,” Lincoln’s accent made the first syllable of Octavia’s name sound wonderful. Octavia smiled at him. She’d made a friend. 

 

“Goodbye, Lincoln kom Trikru. May we meet again.” Octavia said. 

 

The grounder gave her a short wave before turning and vanishing into the forest. 

 

* * *

 

“Lexa!” Clarke stormed into the room. The other 11 clans’ generals in addition to the boat clan trader all turned to look at the Smile. The trader immediately stood from his chair around the table. He’d been seated furthest from Lexa due to his lack of combat experience. Clarke would not be sitting in his chair and one of Lexa’s servants moved to place a new chair next to Lexa.

 

As the trader got to beside Clarke she stopped him, “You did well. Your payment is with Captain Derrick.” 

 

The trader nodded back to her as he left. Clarke turned to face the silence. 

 

It was the Ice Nation general who responded first, he stood and tipped over his chair in his eagerness. He pointed at her before opening his mouth as if to speak. He closes it immediately and then opens it again. 

 

“If you have words, Raki, say them before you explode,” Clarke said. 

 

“You killed Nia.” 

 

“She tried to kill me first, and I don’t think she was missed. How is Roan adjusting to the power I gave him?” Clarke smiled at the general. 

 

“Enough. Clarke, sit,” Lexa commanded. 

 

“Am I your pet?” Clarke responded. She looked at the Commander and frowned when she saw the glint in Lexa’s eye. She’d ticked the Commander off. Ah well, she had to let the Ice Nation know that she wouldn’t be putting up with any of this nonsense. 

 

Lexa glared, “No, but you are my friend and one of my generals,” She glanced back and forth between Clarke and Raki. This had been a long time coming. Lexa continued, “If this is something you must do, then proceed. But then we have a war to discuss.” 

 

Raki reached for his sword before realizing he’d had to relinquish it in order to enter this room. He clenched his fists before looking up at his Queen’s murderer, “Thank you.” 

 

Clarke smiled and walked around the table to grasp his hand. The warriors shook hands and the other generals looked at her in befuddlement. Clarke let his hand go and the two warriors nodded at each other. Clarke turned to Lexa, nodded again before circling the table once more. She looked at Lexa and bowed before her, “Thank you for allowing that, Commander.” 

 

Lexa gestured to the chair beside her and Clarke took her seat. 

 

“Clarke, we believe you have a report from the flame giants?” 

 

“Yes, one of my warriors has infiltrated their ranks and will soon give her report to Anya. However, another one of them has landed,” Clarke paused to allow the generals to express their shock and anger before continuing, “Indra is investigating and will terminate the threat if necessary. However, that is not what I am here to discuss.” 

 

Lexa nodded, “I summoned Clarke here because we have to discuss war,” Lexa tapped Clarke on her thigh to avoid her mentioning the actual reason she’d summoned her.

 

Clarke coughed, “Correct. The mountain has stood long enough, it is time for it to fall,” Clarke glanced at Lexa before smiling her bloody smile. Lexa gestured towards the door. The guard there knocked and the door was pushed open. In walked a man wrapped in a white suit. The Ice Nation guard holding him forced the man to his knees before holding a sword to his throat. 

 

Lexa smiled at her generals, enjoying this performance, “Meet one of the mountain men, he has four minutes to live. I brought Clarke here to get answers from him. Today is the beginning of the mountain’s end.” 

 

She nodded at Clarke and the warrior stood and drew the serrated dagger from her side, a smile blooming on her face all the while. 

 


End file.
